Out In The Rain
by some1lostme
Summary: Grissom and Sara are in an accident that leaves them out in the rain... Will there be a shift in the relationship? GSR. FINISHED! R
1. Prologue

**Title: **Out In the Rain

**Rating:** PG-13, or R

**Pairing:** G/S

**Spoilers:** Through Butterflied

**Disclaimer:** I know, I know. They aren't mine. I don't own 'em.

**Summary:** Major angsty GSR piece. Grissom and Sara are in an accident that leaves them stranded… sort of. Case-file, too.

**Prologue**

The sun had set on Las Vegas nearly three hours ago, and Sara Sidle was wide awake as rain poured down around her. At eight o'clock, she had reported to the L.V.P.D. crime lab for the routine staff meeting. Grissom had quickly handed out that night's cases and the team had split up. Sara had been paired with Grissom while Nick and Warrick took a case together and Catherine was working solo.

"Allison Conners, twenty-one, junior at UNLV. Two students found her face down in the pond while they were jogging," Brass had told them when they had arrived. "Signs of asphyxiation. She's got no family in the area, originally from Seattle; driver's license was in the back pocket. Her roommate called the police this afternoon to report her missing, claims Allison never came home after work on Tuesday."

It had only taken moments for Sara to get to work on the scene. Grissom had disappeared, mumbling something about the roommate, and he had not come back. Sara collected what little evidence that had not been disrupted either by the students who found the body or the early evening rain. She was crouched down beside the pond, collecting samples of the water, when the thought of Grissom floated across her mind.

Sara had been glad when he had left her alone at the scene. Grissom and her needed to put some space between them every now and then. He had paired them together on the last six cases they worked. Being near him so often was beginning to get to her. She had once told him that she over talked around him and the more and more they worked together, the more Sara talked. Sometimes she worried that Grissom could hear her heart beating as loudly as her voice, but he never mentioned it; never mentioned how much she talked or the awkwardness between them. She appreciated the way he had pretended not to notice.

"Sara?"

She jumped at the sound of Grissom's voice very close behind her. Sara placed both hands on the ground to steady herself as she swayed toward the lake. She pushed herself up and turned to face him.

"What's up?"

"Allison's roommate just gave me the name and address of the bar were Allison worked. Wanna tag along?"

"Sure, I'm done here anyway," Sara told him, gathering her kit. "There's nothing left for me to do, the rain washed most of the evidence away."

* * *

Once they were in the Grissom's Tahoe on the road to the bar, the rain came down harder. Sara noticed that she could not see more that fifteen feet out the front window and she glanced over at Grissom. He was squinting to see through the sheet of rain pounding against the windshield, swearing absentmindedly. Sara smiled a little at his words, but was worried about the weather at the same time.

"Maybe we should pull over," Sara suggested, grabbing the dashboard as the SUV slid a little to the right.

"If I could see the damn road we would pull over," Grissom snapped, "But I don't want to put us in a ditch."

For a minute, Sara wasn't sure if Grissom was mad at her suggestion, or the weather.

"How far out of town is this bar?" Sara asked. Now she closed her eyes as the car slid again. When she opened them, it was just enough to watch Grissom jerk the car back onto the road.

"Grissom?"

"The bar is in Gainesville, Sara. It's about a thirty-five minute drive from the UNLV campus," Grissom replied coolly, still focused on the road, "We may have to stop and find some place to wait out the storm."

A thought immediately formed in Sara's mind. _She and Grissom alone in a motel room during a storm, there'd be two of them if Sara had anything to say about it._ There were so many different directions in which she could take that fantasy, but she shook it away. They had a case to work on, there'd be nothing personal about their stay. No matter how much Sara wanted it.

Suddenly, the car slid completely off the side of the road, causing Sara to slide sideways into her door. Her head hit the window with a dull thud and she reached out for something to hold onto. She found it as Grissom's warm fingers wrapped around hers. The car began to slow with the friction created by the mud but they didn't come to a full stop until the SUV was up on one side. Sara was leaning heavily against her door and Grissom was struggling to stay in his seat. Their fingers were still latched together as they searched themselves for injuries.

"Are you all right?" Grissom asked.

"Yeah, bumps and bruises," Sara replied, "I don't think anything's-"

"You're bleeding," Grissom said abruptly, staring at the small gash on her forehead. He adjusted his vision and looked around the interior of the car. "We need to get out of here."

"Maybe I can kick out the windshield," Sara suggested.

She squirmed around in her seat for a second before placing her booted feet against the glass. She pushed with all the strength her body would give, but the glass wouldn't budge. A light bulb flickered on in her brain and she reached for the service revolver resting in the small of her back.

"Turn away," she told Grissom as she did so herself.

She fired two shots into the windshield and the bullets created two large spiderweb cracks. Sara kicked again and the glass fell from the frame. When it was completely empty of shards, she unbuckled her seatbelt.

"Be careful," Grissom muttered, releasing her hand as she began to crawl out of the vehicle.

Once Sara had exited the car, Grissom undid his own seatbelt and followed her lead, making sure to grab the keys and shove them in his pocket.

"Do you have any dry clothes in the back?" Grissom asked Sara.

She nodded. Grissom took her hand again and began to lead her to the hatch of the SUV. He noticed the trouble she was having walking through the mud and glanced down at her shoes.

"I think I have an extra pair of work boots with me," he told her, regarding the high boot she was wearing, "They'll be warmer and easier to walk in."

Grissom opened the hatch and began examining their supplies: 2 field kits, 2 LVPD issue ponchos, a change of dry clothes for each of them, two cell phones, Sara's laptop, his extra work boots and Sara's service revolver.

"Do you have active evidence in your field kit?" Grissom asked.

"Yeah, from the lake," she told him.

"All right, I'll empty my case to keep our clothes and phones dry," he explained, "Take your laptop, it's likely that it wouldn't be here when we came back. And put on your poncho."

Sara pulled the plastic poncho over her head and watched Grissom do the same. He handed her laptop and she slung the case over her shoulder so it hung around her neck. Grissom transferred their dry clothes into his waterproof field kit, placing their cell phones and his wallet on top of the pile. He picked up his boots and held an arm out to Sara, "Come here."

Sara stood rooted in place for a moment, not sure that she could handle anymore intimate touching. She looked into Grissom's eyes and gave up all idea of a fight. She took a struggled step toward him and into his arms. He helped her lean against the back seat of the SUV and picked up her right foot. He pulled off her muddy leather boot and threw it into the car. He slid his heavy work boot onto her foot, lacing and tying it for her. He repeated the action with her left foot before letting her go.

"Better?"

"Much," Sara told him, "Thank you."

When Grissom had locked the hatch on the SUV, he and Sara began to make their way down the abandoned Nevada highway.

"How far do you think we are from Gainesville?" Sara asked.

"At least ten miles," Grissom replied, looking down at his watch. It was nearly midnight now and he wondered how long it would take them to walk to Gainesville. He prayed that they'd find some place to get out of the rain, Sara was getting soaked.

"Great, I'm gonna freeze," Sara muttered.

Grissom reached over and pulled Sara closer to him, "I won't let you freeze."

Sara shivered absently, rubbing her hands together and moving into Grissom's arms.

"Although, if I don't get you some where warm soon, you may develop hypothermia."

* * *

Nick Stokes sat in the break room, his case file open on the table in front of him. His coffee was cold now and he barely noticed as Warrick entered the room.

"Have you heard from Gris or Sara?" Warrick asked.

"What?" Nick muttered tiredly, shaking his head, "No, not lately. You?"

"Nope."

"Did you get anything from the house?" Nick asked, now a little more focused.

"Nothing solid, only partials off the counter and the window sill," Warrick replied, sitting down across from Nick. He sighed, "Why the hell do we always get the shitty B n' Es and Grissom and Sara always get the interesting stuff?"

"Cause it's Gris and Sara, man," Nick said, "You can't tell me that you've never noticed the way they work together, it's different."

"Yeah, it's sexual," Warrick told him, "In a really freaky way."

Nick laughed, "So I'm not the only one?"

"'Not the only one' what?" Catherine asked, entering the room behind Warrick.

"Uh, nothing, Cath," Nick said, looking back down at his file.

"Right," Catherine said, going to the refrigerator, "How's your case coming?"

"Not too great," Warrick replied.

"Not very interesting?" Catherine asked.

Nick and Warrick glanced at each other and said, at the same time, "You could say that."

* * *

Grissom felt Sara shiver again. He rubbed his hands over her arms and shivered himself. He had removed his glasses, shoving them in the pocket of his now soaked jeans, and the rain beat against his face. He was probably as wet as Sara was, but because he had the larger body structure, he knew he was warmer than she was. That, and she had no meat on her bones, she ate like a rabbit. He felt himself shiver again and realized that he was starving. _Hell, if I don't get warm soon, I'm going to develop hypothermia._

"Gris, are you all right?" Sara asked, noticing the way he swayed against her.

"Fine," Grissom muttered. It wasn't true; he was freezing.

Sara knew that the simpleness of the word had been a lie. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, she knew that Grissom would never be as honest with her as she wanted him to. She knew that, if he said he was fine, that it meant that he'd survive. He was a private man; she knew that, it had only been by accident that she'd discovered his otosclerosis. He hadn't told her himself, she heard it from Catherine. Grissom's life was his own, he didn't like to share it with anyone else.

"What time is it?" Sara asked.

She felt Grissom jump before he answered, "It's one thirty, Sara."

"Hmm," Sara sighed, squeezing Grissom's hand as lightning flashed in the distance. "Maybe we'll find a hotel."

She bit her tongue as the thought was spoken out loud. She turned and caught Grissom staring at her out of the corner of his eye. She smiled weakly, lowering her gaze to her feet. _Over talking again, Sidle, this is getting a little out of hand._

Grissom simply squeezed her fingers in turn, "Maybe."

* * *

As Jim Brass entered the forensic lab, he caught Catherine and Greg bent over a microscope discussing her case. He cleared his throat, causing Catherine to jump slightly in surprise.

"Something wrong Jim?" Catherine asked.

"Have you heard from Grissom or Sara?" Brass asked in reply.

"Not since the meeting," She told him, "Why?"

"I tried to reach them on both of their cells, but neither of them answered," Brass explained, "They were on their way out to Gainesville and I'm thinking they may have gotten caught in the storm."

"I'm sure they're fine," Greg said, "It's likely that they lost service on their phones, a storm will do that you know."

Brass and Catherine glared at Greg and the lab tech turned back to his microscope.

"I don't think it'd be a good idea to go looking for them just yet," Brass told Catherine, "Greg's right, it's possible they just lost service on their phones. Just call me if you hear from them."

"I will," Catherine called as Brass left the lab.


	2. Chapter One

**Chapter 1**

The moment the motel came into view, Sara quickened her steps. She was shaking with cold and determination. Grissom kept with her step for step and when the finally reached the motel, Sara's breath was ragged.

"Stay here," Grissom ordered as Sara leaned against the wall of the motel office. She was sheltered by a high canopy but Sara could still here the rhythm of the rain coming down around her.

When Grissom reappeared with a room key, Sara shuttered. He picked up the field kit, took Sara's hand and led her quickly across the parking lot to a row of doors. When they reached number eight, Grissom unlocked the door and let Sara into the room.

She froze only a foot in the door. This was not her idea of a romantic room in the slightest. A queen size bed sat against the left wall and the t/v sat on the dresser at the bed's end. The wood paneling killed any sort of mood and Sara sighed loudly, dropping her laptop on the floor beside her. Grissom pushed her further into the room, closing the door behind them.

"You should go take a shower," he said, pointing to the door on the other side of the room, "Try to warm yourself up."

Grissom put the field kit down on the table beside the window. He watched as Sara slowly took in her surroundings, moving in the direction of the bathroom. He opened the field kit, offering her dry clothes, "You may need these."

Sara stopped on the other side of the bed and turned around to face him and he saw it, for the first time in months, he saw the emotion in her eyes. Something in his mind went off loudly and he handed the clothes out to her again. Sara gave him another weak smile as she took the clothes into the bathroom and closed the door behind her. _God, _he thought, _How the hell am I going to do this?_

Nick stood over a pile of broken glass in living room of the James' home. He'd already collected a few shards of glass from the window but he still felt that something about the situation was off.

"Warrick, take a look at this will you?"

Warrick moved up beside his partner, noticing the smudges of green paint on the glass.

"Paint brush?" he asked.

"I doubt it," Nick replied, bagging that particular piece of the broken window, "I think a paint brush is too light to do that much damage. Besides, why would there be wet paint on the handle?"

"Good point," Warrick said, moving back to the coffee table he'd been dusting for prints.

He and Nick hadn't gotten anywhere on this case. The perp obviously knew a little about the job because he hadn't left them with anything. The partials they'd lifted early hadn't matched anyone in the system or anyone in the James' family. Although, in Warrick's mind, that didn't rule the family out. Erin James, the oldest of the four children, had been away at school the night that the robbery had been taken place but Brass hadn't yet reached Erin's roommate to clear her.

"Warrick, what do you know about the heckle effect?" Nick asked suddenly.

"You could say I was an expert," Warrick replied, "Sara and I used it to get a guy a few years ago for killing his brother. Why?"

"Cause," Nick said, handing Warrick another shard of glass, "I think we've got a lead."

Sara slipped into the steaming bathwater and let it wash over her. She sighed heavily and leaned against the back of the tub, closing her eyes. She couldn't stop thinking about the man in the other room who she would be, somewhat unwillingly, spending the night with. And, if she knew Grissom as well as she thought she did, he was trying to come up with some excuse to get a second room.

_He'd better not, dammit, _Sara thought. She had spent months imagining what it would be like to lie in a bed beside him, to feel his arms wrapped around her. Sara wasn't exactly sure when her feelings for Grissom had become so intimate but the thought of him leaving her alone for the night hurt her. She felt the hot tears start to roll down her cheeks and she hated herself. He was her friend, and then he'd become her supervisor, and then there had been the adjustment period. It was that strange period in their relationship where Grissom had been forced to cope with the idea of losing his hearing and Sara had been forced to examine her feelings for him. She'd realized she loved him and he knew that he couldn't let her in.

The tears came harder at the thought of losing him and Sara sank deeper into the water. Before she could fight it off, the fatigue caught up to her and she fell into a light sleep.

Nearly forty minutes later, Sara emerged from the bathroom looking intensely too comfortable. Her hair was wrapped up in a towel and her face was flushed. She'd changed out of her wet slacks and T-shirt into a pair of faded jeans and another T-shirt. She rubbed her eyes and blinked up at Grissom. She smiled at him, "Shower's all yours."

"Did you even leave me any hot water?" he asked, smiling back, "You were in there for almost an hour."

"I took a bath, Grissom," she explained, watching his eyes widen at the thought, "I sort of fell asleep, sorry. But there should be plenty of hot water."

For a few minutes Grissom didn't speak. The image of Sara partially submerged in a tub of warm water kept dancing across his mind and he couldn't shake it off. When he finally snapped out of it, Sara was lying on the bed, on her stomach, half asleep.

"I'll be out soon," he said quietly, leaning over to brush hair from her face, "Go to sleep."

Sara mumbled something into her pillow and Grissom knew that she would be out of it for a while. He closed the bathroom door behind him, stripped of his still damp clothing and climbed into the hot shower.

"Hey Brass!" Nick yelled from down the hall. The young CSI came sprinting toward him and Brass turned to him as Nick asked, "Did you reach Erin James?"

"No, but I did-" Brass said, handing Nick a sheet of paper, "speak to Katie Kayle, Erin's roommate."

"And?"

"And Erin James hasn't been back to her apartment in at least four days," Brass told him.

"Really?" Nick asked, slightly more interested.

"Ms. Kayle claims that she hasn't seen Erin James since Sunday evening," Brass explained, "Apparently, Erin James got a phone call Sunday from her brother-" Brass flipped to a new page of notes "-David. Erin told her roommate that there was a family emergency and left in a hurry."

Nick smiled, "I think we need to talk to David James."

_Sara stood hidden in shadows inside Debbie Marlin's apartment. The resemblance between them was uncanny and it frightened Sara. She watched as Debbie walked around her apartment, changing the sheets on her bed, lighting a path of candles down the hallway and into the bathroom._

_Fire hazard, Sara thought._

_Sara heard a bell in the distance and watched joy spread across Debbie's face. The woman walked carefully to her front door where she let in her date. The man kissed Debbie and Sara didn't see much more as they exited the room and headed toward Debbie's bedroom. However, just because she didn't see it didn't mean that Sara couldn't hear it. The horrid screams and Debbie's cries. The precise sound of a knife cutting deep into human flesh. A waterfall of blood splashing onto the floor. She could hear the bodies being dragged from the bedroom to the bathroom, the sound of blood soaked clothes sliding across the tiled floor._

_A scream of her own welled up in Sara's throat, forcing out all the anger and pain she felt. The emotions took over and she had lost all control again. . ._

The sound that awoke Grissom was not a pleasant one. At first, he wasn't sure exactly what it was that he was hearing, but when he realized that Sara was sitting straight up in bed beside him, he knew what had happened.

"Sara! Sara, honey, wake up!" Grissom grabbed Sara's upper arms, shaking her lightly, "Sara, please, wake up!"

Sara's entire body shook and Grissom knew instantly that she was no longer trapped inside her own head. Tears were smeared over her cheeks and her mouth was still open but no sound was coming out. He tightened his grip on her arms, forcing her to turn slightly and look at him.

"Sara, are you all right?" he asked.

Sara took a deep breath and blinked repeatedly before she spoke, "Can you still tell me that it's 'just empathy'?"

Sara pulled herself out of Grissom's grasp, crawling out of the bed. She moved to sit at the table under the window and rested her head in her hands. She was still shaking visibly.

"I'm sorry, Sara," Grissom said quietly, "I guess I just didn't understand."

"There's a lot you don't understand," Sara snapped without thinking.

"Do you want to tell me about it then?" Grissom asked, "Make me understand?"

Sara didn't look at him, didn't want to see the emotionless expression on his face. She hated that look, hated it when he pretended that nothing mattered, nothing effected him. Why the hell did she have to be so damn effected by her cases? Why couldn't she be like everyone else and just let go? _Because, Sara, _she thought, _This is your punishment. This is what you get for being human. _

"Sara," Grissom said again, now getting up from the bed to sit across from her at the table, "Make me understand."

Sara sighed, rubbing the heels of her hands hard into her eyes, "They're nightmares, Grissom. Cases that I've worked coming back to haunt me, reminding me that I didn't save them, I haven't saved anyone."

"Sara, that isn't what we do, we don't save people," Grissom told her, "We save their families the pain of knowing that the person responsible for the death of their loved one is still out there, still capable of taking someone else's life. In a way Sara, I guess we do save people. We save people from being hurt by the people we help put away."

Grissom watched Sara, waiting for her to say something more, but only heard her pain.

"I know that it's hard for you, Sara, but-"

"Do you? Grissom, you have no idea," Sara said, still not looking up at him, "You don't let your cases get to you, you don't feel anything. I can't keep myself from getting involved, you know that. I once told you that I wished I could be like you, I still do, because it hurts so much."

Grissom didn't respond to that. He knew that it wasn't true anymore, that he couldn't keep himself from getting involved in certain cases. When Debbie Marlin had been killed, he'd spent three days processing evidence from her apartment. He'd forced himself to find out who'd killed her. But he hadn't known Debbie Marlin, not before her death, it had been her resemblance to Sara that had kept him on that case. He didn't sleep for three days while he worked that case. He'd noticed that about Sara, when she was emotionally involved in a case, she wouldn't sleep for days.

"Tell me who you were dreaming about Sara," he said suddenly.

She hesitated, then looked at him for the first time since they'd sat down, "Debbie Marlin."

Grissom's heart froze in his chest. He wasn't sure he'd even heard her right.

"Debbie Marlin?" he repeated, "You didn't even work her case, Sara."

"Yes I did," Sara said, "Not much of it because you made everyone keep me out, but I ran her prints and checked the perimeter. I was at her house, I saw her face, Grissom. She looked just like me."

Grissom didn't speak. He sat there, staring at Sara as though she'd just slapped him in the face. He hadn't even thought to ask if she'd seen Debbie, he didn't know that she knew.

"I've dreamt about her, too," he said before he could tell himself not to, "And you."

Sara's heart suddenly went into overdrive. _He dreams about me,_ she thought, _that's new. _She was in shock. He'd just expressed a very personal though with her, this was very unlike Grissom.

"How do you want me to respond to that?" she asked quietly.

"You don't have to say anything, Sara," Grissom told her, "I just need you to know that I've weekend in my resolve. I got involved, Sara."

"Just because you dream doesn't mean you're involved," Sara said, "When you have nightmares, when you hear a victims screams while you're awake, when you exhaust yourself going over the same evidence day after day, that's being involved, Grissom."

Sara's voice broke on his name and she wiped hard at her eyes as fresh tears formed.

"Sara, I-" But Grissom stopped himself. He couldn't tell her. He couldn't hurt her anymore. He knew that, if he told Sara the truth, if he told her how he felt, going back to work would kill her.

Sara sat perfectly still as Grissom moved around the table to take her hand. He dragged her to her feet and led her back to the bed, "Go to sleep Sara."

"How'd it go with the James kid?" Warrick asked as Brass and Nick entered the breakroom.

"He says he's got an alibi, but we're still looking into it," Brass explained.

"How about an analysis of the paint we got off the glass?" Nick asked.

"Everyday house paint," Warrick told him, "Interior. Greg's working on the brand now."

"We've got David James' prints to match to the partials we lifted from the counter and window sill," Nick said, "But we've got to find the paint-"

Warrick's pager matched Nick's in volume and the both said to Brass, "That's Greg."

When Grissom awoke for the second time during the night it was not to Sara's screams. However, she wasn't in the bed with him. Sara sat at the table under the window, her laptop open in front of her. Her face was illuminated by the open screen and she just stared at it.

"Sara?"

"I heard what you said that night," Sara said, her voice barely above a whisper, her eyes still focused on the laptop, "In the interrogation room, I heard what you said to Dr. Lurie. I was behind the mirror, Grissom."

_But then, all of a sudden, we get a second chance. Somebody young and beautiful shows up. Somebody we could care about. She offers us a new life with her, but we have a big decision to make, right? Because we have to risk everything we've ever worked for in order to have her. _Grissom's own words rang in his ears. _I couldn't do it._

"What would you like me to say Sara? That I think I'm in love with you? That I wish that I had taken the chance while it was still open to me?" Grissom asked, "I can't, Sara. I can't tell you that because I don't know."

"Damn it Grissom, you know how you feel so just say it, please," Sara's words were full of pain, "I need to know that this wasn't nothing."

"That what wasn't nothing, Sara? We haven't done anything," Grissom told her, not sure who he was trying to convince, Sara or himself.

Then she cried again. This time her tears were harsh and burning. She wasn't angry or afraid, she was hurt. Grissom was her friend, the closest one she'd had in ten years. In a way, she had loved him the day she'd met him. She had attended his lecture on a whim and it had changed her outlook on things, on life. She'd found someone like her, someone so in love with their work that it was their life. In Sara's mind, Grissom was the only person who understood her, who knew what her work meant to her, who knew what exactly her life was like. But at that moment, he could've been a complete stranger.

"What've you got, Greg?" Nick asked, finding the over-eager lab tech bent over a microscope.

"Take a look," Greg told him, stepping back.

Nick peered into the scope at a slid covered in green paint containing tiny silver flecks.

"Everyday house paint, Greg?" he asked.

"So I missed it," Greg shrugged, "I don't do that very often, give me a break. Look, the silver stuff isn't visible to the naked eye. But it's not really incriminating evidence. The paint's a special brand, magnetic stuff, interior paint though."

"So there should be a wall somewhere out there covered in green magnetic paint," Nick said sarcastically, "Thanks Greg."

"That's not all I got," Greg said, holding a sheet of paper out to Warrick. "You can only get this particular brand of paint off the website. I did a background check, Erin James placed an order for two gallons of this about a month ago."

"So, Erin James was home when the B n' E took place," Brass concluded.

"There's more," Greg said, "There was blood mixed in with the paint."

"Looks like we got ourselves a homicide boys," Nick said, "Thanks Greg, and I mean it this time."

"Sara," Grissom said, attempting to coax her into a more calm state of mind, "Sara."

"Stop saying my name like it means something to you, Grissom. You've made it perfectly clear that we're nothing more that colleagues. That's fine," Sara snapped, finally looking up at him, "But don't say my name like that and then push me away."

"I don't know how else to say your name," he said, resisting the urge to throw a 'Sara' onto the end of the statement.

"How about with a little less emotion? Or not at all," Sara suggested.

Grissom watched in silence as she stood from her chair to grab her poncho. Sara pulled the plastic over her head and yanked open the motel room door. The rain was still coming down hard and Sara became silhouetted by the light in the motel parking lot.

"I'm sorry that I fell in love with you," she muttered, closing the door behind her.

For a few moments, Grissom sat on the edge of the bed, staring silently at the door. He pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling the on-set of a migraine. He tried to contemplate Sara's parting words but couldn't think of anything logical. He should go after her. It was cold and dark and still raining. Besides, where would she go, they didn't really know where they were.

He stood up, straightening the sweatshirt that he wore and pulled on his own poncho. He opened the door and dealt with the rain.

When Nick, Warrick and Brass arrived at the crime scene of their B n' E, they were in search of a body.

"Erin James comes home to find her brother waiting for her, thinking something terrible happened to her mom," Nick theorized.

"But the mom is fine," Warrick continued. "It's her brother whose got the problem. He's pissed at her, for God knows what reason, and they get into it."

"As all brothers and sisters do."

"I don't know about you," Warrick said, shining his flashlight in Nick's direction, "But my sister and I never tried to kill each other."

"You know what I mean," Nick explained, "They were screaming and yelling and ended up swinging. You can't tell me that you've never wanted to take a swing at your sister."

"Just cause I thought about it, doesn't mean that I ever did it," Warrick told him.

"But when we talked to David James," Brass interjected, "He was coming down off a pretty heavy high. His pupils were still dilated and I could smell the marijuana."

"So the brother is under the influence when Erin arrives."

"Maybe that's why she's pissed," Nick said.

"All right, so who's blood's on the window?" Warrick asked, "Erin's or David's?"

"I think we need a warrant."

Grissom looked around, squinting hard against the rain and lack of light. Sara couldn't have gone too far, she'd only left the room a few seconds before he had. She wasn't within his line of sight as he searched the parking lot. He then turned to glance along the row of motel room doors. At the opposite end of the row, Grissom noticed a small room, enclosed with glass and realized what Sara was staring at. _Vending machines. She must be starving. _

Grissom turned around, walked back into their room and exited for the second time, with his wallet. He locked the door and began to walk toward the room.

Sara's stomach growled loudly at her as she patted her pants pockets in search of change. She hadn't eaten anything in nearly twelve hours. _The one day I skip food to sleep, _she thought.

She hadn't even noticed Grissom coming toward her. He held his wallet in one hand and three one-dollar bills in the other. He held the money out to her.

"I didn't think to ask if you'd eaten anything," he said to her, "I'm sorry."

"Not your fault, I hadn't really thought about it myself."

Sara took the money from Grissom's hand and moved forward to put one of the bills in the machine in front of her. She pushed a couple of buttons and seconds later was holding a steaming cup of black coffee. She stepped aside to let Grissom have a turn with the coffee machine and put a bill into the next machine. From this one, she got a candy bar and two bags of chip.

"Hey Grissom."

"Yes, Sara."

"Can I have another dollar?" She pointed to a pop machine, "Water, for when the coffee's gone."

He smiled at her, handing her another bill, "Makes sense. I don't suppose chips and coffee go very well together."

Sara got her bottled water and watched Grissom get a candy bar from the other machine, "Is that all your going to eat?"

"I ate dinner just before we left for the scene," he told her, "I'm not very hungry."

"Oh," Sara looked down at her food. "I actually slept today."

"I knew there had to be a logical reason for you to skip a meal."

Sara smiled to herself. _That's the Grissom that I know, _she thought, _but the second we walk back into that room I'm gonna lose him for the paranoid one. _She looked up and caught Grissom staring at her again.

"What?" she asked quickly.

"Nothing," Grissom replied, smiling at her again, "Let's go."

He took Sara's arm and led her back toward their room. She was so afraid of him in that moment that she was shaking and he could feel it.

Nick and Warrick stood inside the James' home. They were in front of the broken window and Nick held a spray bottle containing luminal.

"If there's blood here," Nick said, "then Erin James is here, too."

He sprayed the wall around the window as well as the shards of glass laying at his feet. Everything began to glow; the glass, the window sill, the walls, the carpet.

"Someone was killed here," Nick told Warrick.

"What do you want to bet it was Erin James?"

_Where am I supposed to go now? _Sara thought. Grissom was within arms reach of her, sitting just across the table. _I know him well enough to know that this is how he'll deal with 'us', he'll pretend that the conversation never happened, that everything is back to normal. _

"Sara?"

She nearly jumped out of her chair. She spilled a little bit of coffee on the table and glanced up at Grissom, "Huh?"

"Are you all right?" he asked, "I mean, can you go back to sleep?"

"Yeah, actually, I'm exhausted."

For a few moments neither of them spoke. The watched each other, both trying to analyze what the other was thinking. Sara gave up first, Grissom was a rock. If he didn't want to let anyone in, he wouldn't. Sara, however, wore her heart on her sleeve when it came to Grissom. Anything he could have needed to know was reflected in her eyes.

It wasn't until his skin touched her's that Sara noticed Grissom had moved. He was kneeling in front of her chair, leaning on the arm rests. His mouth was on her's and Sara was frozen to her chair. Was she dreaming? Or was Grissom kissing her? It took a moment of clarity for Sara to realize that she could feel the heat of his body on her's and she opened her mouth to kiss him back.

"Nick, come take a look at this!"

Nick moved around the side of the James' house and came to a stop beside Warrick in the back yard. Warrick shined a light on the side of a garbage can along the fence.

"That looks like blood to me," Nick said. He reached for his kit and pulled out a swab. He slid the Q-tip down the side of the trash can and capped it. "I'll take it to the lab, have Greg put a rush on it."

"You wanna open the can?" Warrick asked, glancing at Nick.

Nick nodded and Warrick's hand went to the lid.

Grissom moved away, breaking the kiss first and Sara couldn't contain a small moan of protest. The taste of him rested on her lips, coffee and chocolate. She was afraid to breath, afraid that it would all disappear and Grissom would be nothing more than a figment of her imagination. But he didn't leave. He'd taken a step back from her chair, but he wasn't gone. Sara reached out for him.

"Grissom, please," her voice hadn't even worked, her lips had simply moved.

But Grissom could read the emotion in her eyes. _What the hell did I do? _he thought. This was Sara, not just some women. Sara knew him too well already, she knew his quirks and his logic and this was too much. He had kissed her, he'd made intimate contact with the one person he knew that he couldn't have, no matter how much he wanted her. They worked together, he was her supervisor and she was his friend. If they had any relationship beyond that, everything would have to change. He looked at her then, her lips swollen and eyes full of fear, _It already has._

Grissom took her hand but didn't speak and Sara's worry grew. He pulled her to her feet and they stood only inches apart. Neither moved, they only breathed. She would only have to move her head a little to put her lips on his again but she didn't, afraid of how he'd react. She watched thoughts and emotions jump in his eyes. He was letting her in, slowly, but he was.

"Grissom, I-" Sara began, only to have Grissom's mouth stop her.

When he stepped back this time, he spoke first, "I don't want to hurt you, Sara. I just want to sleep."

He pulled her down onto the bed with him, lying on his back and watching her lay her head on his chest. She slung her arm around his waist, closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Seconds later, she was asleep.


	3. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two**

Gun drawn, Nick waited for Warrick's next move. Both men held their breath as the lid to the trash can came off.

Nick glanced inside, "Nothing. Just garbage."

"Not quite," Warrick told him, handing Nick the lid to the trash can and pulling out his flash light. Nick watched Warrick swab the inside of the can then add a couple of drops of luminal onto the type. It turned purple.

"Blood," Nick said, "But how'd it get there?"

"Easy, the brother transported Erin's body in the trash can," Warrick told him. "Didn't want to get blood all over the inside of the car."

"Let's get the trash can to the lab, have Greg put a VIP analysis on the blood."

* * *

"Catherine," Jim Brass approached the CSI as she made her way to the break room.

She turned and smiled at him, "What can I do for you Jim?"

"Haven't heard from Grissom or Sara yet have you?" Brass asked.

"No, I take it they haven't made it to Gainsville?" Catherine asked.

"I talked to the owner of the bar were their vic worked, says he hasn't talked to anyone about the case at all," Brass told her, "The guy didn't even know his girl was dead."

Catherine already had her cellphone pressed to her ear and Brass waited for her to speak.

"Grissom."

"Thank God, Gil. Where the hell are you?" Catherine asked. "Brass and I have been trying to get a hold of you all night."

"Calm down Catherine, everything's fine. Sara and I are at a motel a few miles outside of Gainsville," he explained, trying to picture the look on the other CSI's face. "The Tahoe slid off the side of the road and we got caught in the storm. We're going to need a ride out of here."

"You and Sara at a motel?" Catherine shot Brass an amused look.

"Catherine."

"Sorry, Gil. Brass and I will be there as soon as we can," she told her, "Where exactly is this place?"

"It's not hard to miss," Grissom said coolly, "Follow 19 into Gainsville. You'll see the Tahoe and the hotel's probably a couple miles down the road on the right."

"Got it, we'll be there soon."

"And Catherine," Grissom said quickly, "No word of this to anyone."

"Right, see you soon, Gil."

* * *

The ringing of one of their cellphones pulled both Grissom and Sara out of a deep sleep. Grissom was the first to the field kit, handing Sara her phone while answering his own.

"Grissom."

Sara put her phone back into the kit and crawled onto the bed. She watched Grissom's posture as he spoke. He was stiff now, at attention. It must be Catherine, she thought. Grissom was staring at her intently and she smiled at him. She paid little attention to what he said, knowing he was only giving Catherine an explanation for their absence and directions to the motel. She listened to him ask Catherine not to tell anyone about the motel before hanging up.

"Brass and Catherine are on there way," he told her, making no move to get back into the bed.

"Great," Sara muttered.

Grissom knew she was disappointed. Somewhere in his own mind, he was too. But he knew that going back to work would be the best thing for them. He had to make her understand, "Sara, I-"

"Let's not start this again," she told him, stretching out on her back. "I don't want to fight with you. I know that you want to go back, Grissom. But I don't want last night to be the first and last time that you kiss me like that."

Grissom stood there for a moment, taking this in, before he took a step toward the bed. He reached out and pulled on her hand until she was standing beside him again, "It won't be."

* * *

Nearly an hour later, after Sara had washed her face in the sink and brushed her teeth with the complimentary tooth paste and tooth brush she'd gotten from the motel office, there was a knock on the door and Sara jumped. She'd been lying on the now made bed listening to Grissom tell her more information about entomology and house flies.

They both stood, straightening their clothes, and Grissom opened the motel room door.

Catherine smiled back at both of them and Sara noticed the way she examined the room.

"Rough night?" she asked, to whom the question was directed Sara wasn't sure. She nodded along with Grissom and they collected their things.

Sara, with her laptop in hand and her poncho draped over her arm, climbed into the backseat of Brass' Taurus beside Catherine. Grissom sat in the passenger seat in front of her.

"We'll have the Tahoe towed back to the station," Brass told Grissom, starting the car.

"We need to stop by on the way back though," Sara said, "My field kit's still in there."

"We'll have to find other evidence anyway. The stuff in your kit became inadmissible the minute we decided to leave it behind," Grissom explained. "You and I'll get your kit on our way back out to the bar in Gainsville later."

"You plan on driving back out here?" Catherine asked.

"We're still working a case, Catherine," Grissom told her, "We'll do what we have to."

* * *

"Would you like the good news or the bad news?" Greg asked, seeing Warrick and Nick approaching him.

"Give us the bad news first," Warrick told him, "I want to have something to look forward to."

"Right," Greg turned and pulled the trash can from their crime scene out of a paper bag. "I couldn't lift a single print from your can. Rain."

"So we don't have a clue if the brother even touched it?" Nick asked.

"Correct," Greg said, "But here's the good new. The brothers DNA and the blood on the trash can have thirteen matching markers."

"Same DNA," Nick said. "Please tell me it's XX."

"And we have a winner!" Greg shouted cheerfully, "Mom or sister."

"We'll get a warrant for the mom's DNA," Warrick said to Nick, "Thanks Greg."

"Just doin' my job."

* * *

When Brass pulled into the station parking garage, he noticed how eager Sara was to be free of the car. She muttered something to Grissom about meeting them inside and turned and sprinted to another vehicle parked in the lot.

"Where's she off to?" Catherine asked as Brass thought it.

"Clean clothes I assume," Grissom shrugged, "She didn't specify."

They watched Sara rummage through the backseat of her SUV for a moment before they turned to head inside. They were standing in the elevator when Grissom heard a car door close and boots on the pavement. The door closed before he got a good glimpse at Sara.

Sara stood in the women's restroom examining the job she'd done with her make-up. Nothing was smudged or smeared and her hair looked like she'd actually paid it some attention. She's put on a clean pair of black dress pants and a light purple scoop-neck sweater. She'd found a pair of high heels in her locker and was grateful to not be wearing Grissom's work boots.

When she finally emerged from the bathroom, she'd lost the rest of her team. Sara dropped Grissom's boots in his office and headed toward the breakroom, dying for something to eat.

"Nice to see you made it back," Nick said as she entered.

She smiled at him, "Nice of you to notice I was gone."

"What happened out there?" Nick asked, "Grissom finally snap?"

Sara's smile turned into a scowl and Nick knew he'd hit a nerve. He held up his hands in defeat and began to back out of the room.

"Hey," he called, almost forgetting to tell her, "I'm meeting Gris and Catherine for breakfast. Wanna come?"

He smiled as Sara slammed the refrigerator door. She nearly ran after him and they raced to the elevator.

"Are you that hungry Sara?" he asked mockingly.

Sara gave him the finger and he laughed. The elevator doors opened and they pushed to get inside. Both laughing the entire way.

"Hey! Where the hell are you going?" Warrick called to Nick, jogging toward the elevator.

Nick grabbed the door and held it open for Warrick. "Having breakfast with the boss," he told him, "Said all were welcome."

"The more the merrier," Sara said, her voice too cheerful for her own ears.

"As long as he's buying."

* * *

When they reached the diner, Nick parked his Tahoe beside Catherine's and the three younger CSIs entered the building. Grissom and Catherine sat at a booth to their right, no food on the table, and Nick, Warrick and Sara sat down. Nick slid in beside Grissom, Warrick beside Catherine, and Sara in her usual chair at the end of the table.

Catherine watched a look pass between Grissom and Sara. She smiled to herself and felt the need to intervene.

"Nick, why don't you switch Sara seats," she suggested, noticing Sara's immediate reaction. "I'm sure she'd be more comfortable sitting in the booth, she's had a rough night."

"No, Nick, you stay," Sara said quickly, "I'm fine. I don't like being cramped."

"Ah," Nick said, "Claustrophobic. I knew there was a reason you always had to sit on the end."

Not exactly, Sara thought. I just can't have my leg rubbing against Grissom's every two seconds without making an ass of myself. She smiled, "Ever since I was a little kid. I couldn't even have one of those big maze-like jungle gyms. They scared me to death."

Nick and Warrick laughed, adding nagging comments here and there. Sara let it go, she had to. She'd just lied to them, anything she would've said to defend herself would give it away.

She noticed Catherine watching her and looked down at her menu.

Catherine knew Sara well enough to know when she was behaving oddly. She also knew Grissom well enough to know that something was happening with him and Sara. She observed them as Nick and Warrick talked to Sara, making fun of her mostly, and she watched the way Grissom reacted to the things that they were saying. The man was a rock again, back to not letting anyone in.

As the waitress approached their table, Grissom watched the young woman smile at Sara. Sara smiled back, reaching into her bag and producing the entomology text he'd given her for Christmas. She handed the book to the waitress and the girl smiled again.

"Thanks, I start my entomology classes next session," the girl told her.

"Good, I think you'll like it. It's not as boring as you'd think. And I highlighted a lot of the interesting stuff," Sara said, glancing sideways at the rest of her table. The other four CSIs watched her for an explanation, "Guys, this is Sophia. She's a student at UNLV. She's studying to be a criminalist. Sophia, this is the crew of CSIs that I work with."

"Hi, nice to meet you."

"You, too, Sophia," Nick said, a slightly amused tone to his voice.

"Are you ready to order?" the girl asked, getting back to the job at hand.

When the group had placed their orders, the waitress picked up her newly acquired entomology text book and went back to the kitchen.

"You come here often?" Warrick asked Sara.

Grissom noticed she was blushing when she answered, "Three times a week. Sophia works on Tuesdays, Wednesdays and Thursdays. I know her from a couple of classes I help with at UNLV during the week. I loan her my books every now and then. She's a good kid."

"That sounds really familiar," Catherine said, casting a glance at Grissom, "Doesn't it, Gil?"

"I don't know what you mean, Catherine," Grissom said, smiling at her.

The rest of the group laughed and Sara's face was flushed. She smiled, too embarrassed to speak.

"So," Grissom said, "Catch me up. How's the B n' E coming?"

"Just turned into a missing persons, possibly a DB," Nick told him, "The girl's a college student, Erin James. Her roommate said that Erin came home late Sunday night after her brother called and told there was a family emergency. No one's seen her since."

"And we found plenty of blood at the scene. Definitely female and thirteen matching markers with the brother," Warrick told them.

"Mom or sister," Sara translated.

"Right," Nick told her, "Now we're just waiting for a warrant for the mom's DNA."

"Good," Grissom said, turning now to Catherine, "How's your DB?"

"Suicide," she said blandly, "I found out about an hour before I called you. Case closed."

"Good," Grissom said again, "Sara and I'll be working our case all day. The evidence we collected last night has become inadmissible in court so we're back to the beginning."

"Wait a minute," Warrick said, "Weren't you two out in the field all night? How did you manage to lose the only evidence you had?"

"Because," Grissom told him, "We weren't in the field all night."

As if on cue, Sara sneezed, "We were walking in the rain for three and a half hours."

"What?" Nick asked, "What happened?"

"The Tahoe slid off the road, up on it's side and Sara and I had to shoot out the windshield," Grissom explained.

"So, where'd you end up?" Nick asked, passing an interested look at Sara who scowled at him again.

"The only dry place we could find," Grissom told them, "A motel."

Sara's heart felt like it was jammed in her throat. She could feel the fire burning on her cheeks and she looked back down at her cup of coffee. She sneezed again as Nick said, "Wait a minute. The two of you? Alone in a motel? Sara, is there something you'd like to tell us?"

"Go to hell," she muttered.

Nick and Warrick's pagers beeped simultaneously once again and Nick said, "You're lucky, Greg just saved you."

"Not really," Sara muttered, "I still need a ride back."

Nick and Warrick got up to go just as Sophia arrived with their plates.

"Sophia, could you please make these orders to go?" Grissom asked kindly.

The girl smiled, "Sure." Then she looked at Sara, "This always happens to you doesn't it?"

Sara actually laughed now, "You have no idea."


	4. Chapter Three

**Chapter Three**

When the five nightshift CSIs reached the LVPD crime lab, Capt. Brass was waiting outside of Grissom's office. Nick and Warrick broke off to go down the hall and find Greg while Sara and Catherine followed Grissom toward his office.

"Gil, a word," Brass said, standing as they approached, "Alone."

Sara glanced at Grissom and the fear in her eyes was overwhelming. He nodded to Brass and said to Sara, "I'll page you when we're finished."

Sara hesitated for a moment before she nodded and followed Catherine down the hall to the locker room. Grissom watched the two women from his team as they left. When they were out of sight, he let Jim into his office.

"What's going on?" Grissom asked, sitting down at his desk. Brass took a seat across from him and Grissom waited for the other man to speak.

"Word of last night has already reached the sheriff," Brass began. "He isn't too pleased, Gil."

"What, exactly, about last night?" Grissom asked, his hands becoming fists underneath his desk.

"As he relayed it? You and Sara Sidle alone at a motel," Brass replied, "I don't know who approached him with the information but he's not buying our version. He wants a full report from you and Sara. I tried to explain the situation to let him know that we'd been looking for you two but he wouldn't hear it. He even had your truck towed to the garage for processing."

"Let me guess," Grissom said, anger and annoyance in his voice, "Ecklie's doing the process?"

"I guess the dayshift's been a little slow the last few nights," Brass said, shrugging.

"Ecklie's going to do whatever he can to humiliate Sara," Grissom explained, now standing, "This is personal."

"Not much I can do about that," Brass said. He stood and began to move toward the office door with Grissom.

"I know," Grissom told him, "And I appreciate the information. I'll let Sara know about the report but it may take a while, we're working an open case."

"Mobley wants the report on his desk by the beginning of shift tonight," Brass explained. They had reached the door.

"I'll let her know," Grissom said again.

Brass nodded as he left the office and Grissom slammed the door.

* * *

Catherine studied the younger female CSI as she rummaged through her locker. Sara was paler than usual and Catherine could see her shaking. She watched Sara pick up and replace the same photograph four times before shutting her locker. Sara sat for a moment on the bench behind her before standing and opening her locker again. This time, she picked up the photograph and Catherine got a quick glimpse at it as Sara tossed it in the trash.

"You okay?" Catherine asked, maternal concern in her voice.

"I'm fine," Sara lied, "Just a little tired."

She sneezed again and followed this one up with a harsh cough.

"You should probably get that checked out," Catherine told her, "You could have pneumonia from walking in the rain."

"I know," Sara said, "I'm going to feel like shit for the next few days."

Catherine smiled at her, "Yeah, but you're a strong girl, you'll survive."

Sara flushed suddenly and closed her locker again.

"Thanks, Cath," she said, turning and starting toward the door, "Have a good day."

"You too," Catherine called but Sara was already gone.

Catherine closed her own locker and looked around the locker room. She was completely alone and she reached into the trash can beside Sara's locker and picked up the discarded picture.

_Oh Grissom, _she thought, _what the hell did you do?_

She stared at the picture in her hand. Grissom, a lot younger than she ever remembered him, had his arm around a lanky brunette girl in a Harvard sweatshirt. They were standing outside of a residence hall on campus, snow covering the ground around them. Sara was leaning into him, both of them smiling brightly. _She looks so innocent, _Catherine thought. She smiled to herself and folded the picture in half. She stuck it down inside her purse and left the locker room.

* * *

"Grissom!"

He hadn't even seen Catherine come out of the locker room until she called his name. He held the elevator for her and watched as she smiled at Sara. Sara smiled back and lowered her eyes to her hands. She didn't speak to either of them.

"Is Lindsey home from school yet?" Grissom asked.

"No, she's got another hour or so," Catherine told him, "I think I'm going to pick her up and take her to dinner, maybe a movie."

"Tonight's your night off isn't it?" Grissom asked.

Catherine smiled, "Sure is."

The elevator had stopped and the three CSIs stepped into the parking garage. Sara immediately headed to her car. Grissom and Catherine stood for a moment beside her car, talking quietly about Lindsey.

"Thanks for tonight," Catherine said, "I really appreciate it. It's been a long time since I've gotten a Friday night off."

"I know," Grissom said, "And you deserved it."

Catherine smiled at him for a moment and then remembered the photo in her purse.

"Is everything all right with her?" she asked, nodding toward Sara's car.

"I don't know yet," Grissom said quietly, "I haven't given her the bad news."

"Which is?"

"Mobley knows about the motel," Grissom explained, "As does the entire dayshift."

"Oh god," Catherine said, "You'd better take some precautions, Sara's gonna be pissed."

"I know," Grissom said, smiling again, "Have a good day."

"Yeah," Catherine said, climbing into her Tahoe, "You too."

* * *

Grissom climbed into the passenger seat of Sara's Tahoe and waited for her to start the engine. She didn't. Instead, she turned to talk to him.

"What were you and Brass talking about?" she asked quickly, "Are we in some kind of trouble?"

He hesitated for a moment, trying to think of an easy way to tell her. He didn't come up with anything good enough.

"Sara, Mobley knows about last night," he said, noticing that the color drained from her face at the words. "He knows about the accident and about the motel. Jim told me that we're to give the sheriff a full report of the incident by the beginning of shift tonight."

"Great," Sara muttered. She jammed the key into the ignition and started the car, sliding it into reverse and pulling quickly out of her parking spot. "That's all I need."

She sneezed again and sighed loudly.

"Sara," Grissom said her name with the same tone he'd used at the motel and he wondered if she'd be angry, "There won't be anything in that report that will go on your record."

Sara glared at him for a moment before turning onto interstate 19.

"We have to stop by your truck," she reminded him, "I need to get my kit."

"You can't, Sara," he told her. He'd forgotten that part the first time. "Mobley had my Tahoe towed back to the lab to be processed."

"What?" Sara asked, the car swerving to the left slightly. "Why?"

"Apparently," Grissom said, "He doesn't think that we slid off the road."

* * *

Nick and Warrick pulled up in front of the home of David James. Brass had given them a warrant and they were looking for Camille James, Erin's mother.

"Camille James?" Nick asked as the older woman opened the door.

"Yes?" she asked.

"Mrs. James, I'm Nick Stokes with the Las Vegas crime lab and this is Warrick Brown," Nick told her, "Ma'am, we're investigating the brake in of your home last night and the police told us we could find you here."

"Yes, I'm staying with my son, David," Camille James said, "My home isn't exactly safe anymore."

"I know and we're working on that ma'am," Warrick said, "We just need to get a small sample of your DNA for our case, if that's all right with you."

"Of course," Mrs. James said, "Anything that will help. What do you need me to do?"

"All I need is for you to open your mouth for a second," Nick instructed, taking a swab from his kit, "I'm just going to rub the Q-tip along the inside of your mouth and that's all there is to it."

Mrs. James opened her mouth and allowed Nick to do the swab. When he finished, he placed the new evidence in his kit.

"Thank you, Mrs. James," Warrick said as Nick stood beside him.

"You're welcome Mr. Brown," she said, moving back into the doorway of her son's home, "And will you please let me know when I'll be able to go home?"

"Of course," Nick said, "And thanks again."

The two men turned and walked back toward their vehicle as Camille James closed the door.

"That was easy," Warrick said, "Didn't even need out warrant."

* * *

Sara and Grissom reached the bar in Gainsville nearly forty minutes after they'd pulled out of the parking garage. Sara had been distracted and it was obvious in her driving. The two CSIs stepped out of the Tahoe and Grissom grabbed his kit from the back seat. Together they walked to the main entrance of the bar but found the doors locked.

Sara shrugged when Grissom eyed her curiously, "Makes sense. Most bars don't open 'til sundown. They probably don't get any business during the day."

Both CSIs began to look around the parking lot. One car sat in a space just a few feet from them and Sara wondered aloud, "What kind of car did Allison Conners drive?"

"I'll call Brass," Grissom said, reaching for his cellphone, "See if he found out from Allison's roommate."

"You talked to her, too, right?" Sara asked, "Did you just forget to ask?"

He smiled at her, half amused and half serious, "I never forget. At the time, a car was not involved in our investigation. For all we knew, Allison didn't have a car."

"We still don't know that she does," Sara said, throwing him her best smile.

"Jim, it's Gil," Grissom said, peering through the window of the small Chevy Cavalier. "Do we know what type of car Allison Conners drove?"

Sara was already pulling a flashlight and jimmy stick from her Tahoe when Grissom gave her the go ahead, "It's definitely hers. Plates match to Allison Conners, registered in Seattle."

Sara had the driver's side door unlocked and open in a matter of seconds. She searched the interior quickly with the flashlight, not seeing much beyond the piles of trash.

"We're gonna have to have this thing towed to the garage," she told Grissom as he opened the passenger door, "I can't see anything under all this trash."

"Keys are in the ignition," Grissom said.

"What?" Sara's eyebrows went up. She leaned further into the car to get a better look around the steering wheel, "Maybe she locked 'em in, I do that all the time."

"Maybe her attacker pulled her out of the car as she was leaving," Grissom said, picturing it in his head.

"I doubt it," Sara interrupted, "Think he really would've locked the doors?"

"Possibly to throw us off," Grissom explained. They both closed the car's doors and moved back to their own vehicle.

"So, Allison's off work and she's in a real hurry to go home," Sara began, everything coming together in her head.

"But once she's in the car, she realizes that she's not alone. Someone's followed her out of the bar and to her car."

"Guy grabs her, probably has a weapon, and forces her out of the car."

"But there are other cars around so he locks the doors and closes hers."

"Someone would call it in if they found a car in the parking lot with the door open and the keys in the ignition, probably one of Allison's coworkers," Sara concluded, "But they didn't call it in when her car was here and she wasn't?"

"Maybe she wasn't alone."

* * *

Sara and Grissom stayed with Allison Conners' car until the tow truck arrived. When the car was loaded onto the truck, Sara and Grissom turned to head back into Vegas.

_Maybe. _Sara thought about Grissom's theory. _Maybe. _He didn't say that word very often, especially when he was relating to a case. That, and he rarely created a scenario so quickly without evidence. The only evidence they had was Allison's car and that hadn't even been processed. Grissom had been acting very unlike himself lately and it was beginning to get to Sara.

"Grissom?" she asked, trying to find a distraction from her thoughts.

"Yes?"

"When do you want to write out the report Mobley requested?" she asked, not taking her eyes off the road.

Grissom thought about her question for a moment. Half of him was tempted to direct her to his apartment where they would be alone to work things out while the other half of him knew that they had work to do. He didn't voice this thought, being alone again outside of the lab would be illogical, seeing that they were already under the watchful eye of the sheriff.

"We've got to process Allison's car," Grissom told her, "We'll work on the report when we're done."

"Right," Sara said.

She knew that he would say that, anything to keep his emotions at bay. The truth was, Sara didn't give a damn about the sheriff's requested report. She wanted to talk to Grissom. She wanted to talk to him about the night they'd spent together. She wanted him to kiss her again. _That could take some convincing Sidle, _Sara thought, _he's not going to jeopardize his career for you._

"Sara?"

She jumped as Grissom's voice broke her thoughts, "Yeah?"

"We'll have dinner," he told her, "Before our shift. At my apartment."

Sara smiled brightly at him, "Really?"

"Can you work around food?" he asked.

"Of course."

* * *

"Greg!" Nick shouted, "Greg!"

The lab tech wasn't hearing a word other than those of the punk-rock music blaring from his stereo. It wasn't until Nick tapped him on the shoulder that Greg jumped about half a foot in the air and shut off the stereo.

"What can I do for you?" Greg asked, his voice a little shaky.

"My DNA, Greg," Nick snapped, "Did you get a match?"

"To the trash can?" Greg asked, shaking his head. "Thirteen of the same markers, but not an exact match. It's got to be the daughter."

"Thanks, Greg," Nick said, turning to go, "And keep the music down."

* * *

Sara and Grissom pulled into the parking garage at the lab for the second time that day, neither of them too willing to go back inside. Sara climbed down from her driver's seat and locked the doors to the Tahoe. She and Grissom stepped into the elevator to head up to the lab. Neither of them said anything when they reached their floor and they went their separate ways; Grissom to his office and Sara to the process garage.

When Grissom finally sat at his desk, he was exhausted. He'd, for the first time in months, gotten a good night's sleep but now just looking at Sara was killing him. She was there, every time he turned around she was with him. That, however, had been his own damned fault. He'd assigned her to work his cases with him for the past week. He'd thought that he'd gotten used to the uncomfortable silence between them, and he had, until the night in the motel. Now, if they were silent together, his mind was running in circles trying to decide what it was that Sara was thinking about. He wanted to be inside her mind, he wanted to know her. The wanting was the dangerous part.

Knowing Sara wouldn't be anything knew for Grissom. Before she'd come to work for the LVPD, they'd been close friends. It was for that reason that he'd called her to come and work with him after the untimely death of Holly Gribbs. Grissom had personally called Sara in San Francisco to come and work the internal investigation of their unit. He'd even told Nick, Catherine and Warrick that he trusted her. He'd known Sara for years, nearly ten now, since she was in college. He'd met her at Harvard where she was the star pupil in his graduate program and they'd been instantly attracted to each other. He'd never admitted to her that the attraction was there, but he couldn't help acting on it every now and then.

A knock on his office door stirred Grissom from his thoughts. Nick stood in the door, staring at his boss, a lopsided grin on his face. Grissom eyed the younger CSI carefully.

"Can I come in?" Nick asked.

"Of course," Grissom told him, motioning toward the chair in front of his desk, "What's up?"

"I just thought I'd give you a quick heads up on our case," Nick said, sitting in the chair, "Warrick and I have a match on the missing girls blood in a trash can we found at the scene."

"Good," Grissom said, "Do you have a warrant to search the brother's house and his car?"

"Warrick's working on that now," Nick said.

"Good, let me know when you've got everything wrapped up."

"Will do."

Nick got up to go as Grissom looked back down at a folder open on his desk. Nick stopped in the door, watching Grissom for a minute. He wasn't reading, he was thinking.

"Grissom?"

"Yes, Nick?" he said, without even looking up.

"Go easy on Sara, all right? She seems to be having a rough day."

Grissom took this in and when he looked up to ask Nick what he was talking about, he was already gone.

* * *

Sara had done a thorough job of processing Allison Conners' car. She'd collected all of the trash including receipts, fast food wrappers, books and class notes. _God, _Sara thought, _this reminds me of my car in college. _Sara had found finger prints on both the driver's side door as well as the passenger's side. They were in trace now and she had also found various pieces of human hair, some of which looked like they'd been pulled out. She'd started separating the trash, laying it all out on the table in the observation room.

When Grissom found her, she was hunched over a month's worth of garbage.

"Find anything interesting?" he asked, scaring her so bad that she actually screamed.

"Damn it!" she cried, "Stop doing that to me!"

He couldn't help laughing at her, "I'm sorry."

"No your not."

Sara smiled at him weakly and a hundred different thoughts ran through Grissom's mind. She was beautiful when she smiled. _Hell, she's beautiful when she smiles, when she's angry, when she's crying . . . she's beautiful, period, _he thought. He remembered the one time he'd told her that. They'd been investigating the death of a hockey player and they were sitting in the bleachers.

_"I never figured you to be a sports fan," she'd said._

_"I prefer baseball."_

_"Figures, all those statistics."_

_"Hockey's a beautiful sport," he'd said, keeping his eyes on the ice._

_"Huh, since when did you start thinking about beauty?" Sara had asked._

_"Since I met you."_

She'd been stunned, unable to speak to him for a few moments after that. That, however, had been his goal, to prove to her that he paid attention, that she meant something to him. Sara had always been more than just another member of his team.

"Grissom?"

It was his turn to jump at the sound of her voice. Sara smiled to herself, watching him flinch before turning his attention back to her.

"I did find something a little out of the ordinary," Sara told him, motioning to a stack of papers on the table, "These receipts are all from the same gas station in Belmont. There are seventeen of them, Grissom."

"Belmont's a pretty long drive from the UNLV campus," Grissom said, analyzing Sara's evidence, "Not to mention the bar in Gainsville."

"Exactly what I was thinking," Sara said, "And she's originally from Seattle, right? Brass made it a point to tell us she didn't have any family in the area."

"So why was this girl driving back and forth between Vegas and Belmont?"

"That would be the question of the day."

* * *

Sara and Grissom had quickly piled back into her car right after a phone call from Brass. Sara wasn't exactly sure what was going on, Grissom hadn't had the time to explain. He simply instructed her to get in the car and head toward Gainsville.

When they pulled into the parking lot at the bar that Allison had worked at, they met Brass and a young deputy.

"So," Sara said, "You gonna tell me what's going on, Gris?"

"We got a hold of the manager," Brass explained for him, "He called in all of the staff that worked the other night with Allison Conners'."

"Right."

Sara prepared herself for the worst when they entered the bar but was surprised to find that it was a decent looking place. Two young women, probably around the vics age, sat on stools at the bar. An older man, late thirties early forties, stood nervously behind the counter and paced the floor. Sara watched this with little amusement, thinking this guy had something to hide. It was the fourth witness that Sara became most interested in. He was a young man, not really old enough to even work in the bar. He wore jeans and a baggy T-shirt with a name tag pinned to it. _Joey. _

The first sight of the boy would never have prepared Sara for the next thing that she saw. Joey turned to the older man and began moving his hands frantically in front of him. _Sign language. _Sara immediately glanced at Grissom, wondering what his reaction to this would be. He did flinch.

"Joey would like to talk to you first," the manager told them, "He says he thinks he can help you. If you go slowly, I'll translate."

Grissom approached the younger man and Sara turned to the one behind the bar.

"It's all right," she told him, "My partner knows sign language."

"Hi Joey," Grissom said, voicing this for Sara's benefit while signing to the young man. "My name is Gil. Can you tell me what you saw?"

Joey's hands moved rapidly and Sara only caught a word here and there. She looked at Grissom once the boy had stopped his movements.

"He says that he saw Allison the night that she died," Grissom told Sara, "She was arguing with a man at the bar. He said that the man that Allison fought with had been in here before. He recognized him."

Grissom signed to the boy again, "What did the man look like?"

Sara waited for Grissom to turn and interpret Joey's answer again.

"Average height, like me. Dark brown hair, cut short like his. Same build as Brass. No facial hair or scars," he told her.

He signed to Joey again, but did not speak this time. Sara, however, understood the gesture, _Thank you. _Grissom took her by the elbow and led her away from the people at the bar, asking Brass to interrogate the others.

"Joey reads lips pretty well," Grissom told her, "He said that Allison Conners called the man she fought with 'professor'."

"So it looks like we're headed back to UNLV?" Sara asked.

"I think we need to speak to Allison's roommate again."

* * *

The ride back to Vegas began calmly for Sara. She and Grissom talked about their case and when they'd each run out of things to say, Sara had turned on the radio. She listened to the music, catching the lyrics here and there but keeping her mind mostly on the road and Grissom. He was perfectly still beside her, staring out the window and not saying a word. She wondered if he was listening to the music but decided that they probably didn't have the same taste in music. _He's probably trying to ignore it, _she thought, suddenly worried that he'd think she was weird for listening to country music. She quickly changed the station to modern rock and looked at Grissom to see if his expression had changed. He hadn't moved.

"Grissom?" she asked, worry and impatience in her voice.

"Yes, Sara?" he replied, not bothering to look at her. He kept his gaze on the scenery outside of the car.

"What do you know about otosclerosis?" Sara asked, throwing another glance in his direction.

Now Grissom straightened up and looked at her quizzically. He didn't answer right away, as if trying to decide whether to tell her the truth or not. For some reason, Sara knew what he'd say.

"It's a disease that gradually leads to a total loss of hearing," he told her, "A bonny structure forms around the inner ear, causing a blockage to the ear drum."

_Text book answer, _Sara thought, _it figures._

"Why?" Grissom asked.

"Do you think that maybe the boy at the bar, Joey, do you think that he may have had otosclorosis?" Sara asked. It wasn't a really answer, it was simply what she thought of as a logical reason for the question.

"I doubt it," Grissom told her, "From what I know of the disease, otosclorosis doesn't present itself until the later years of the person's life. Joey couldn't have been more than eighteen years old, and he would've been able to speak clearly."

"Oh."

Sara tried hard to focus on the road. She was angry and hurt and what she really wanted to do was pull the truck over and scream at Grissom. Why hadn't he told her? Couldn't he trust her enough to tell her the truth? They told each other everything. He knew everything about her. One thing, she wanted to know one thing and he'd just flat out lied to her.

They rode the rest of the way in silence.

* * *

"I got our warrant!" Warrick announced as he entered the break room.

Nick sat around the table with a few of the guys from dayshift, none of which had an active case at the moment.

"Great," Nick said, tossing the remains of his half-eaten lunch in the trash, "Let's go."

He and Warrick walked into the hall and Nick said to him, "Wouldn't you like to have a shift like that every now and then?"

"Like what?" Warrick asked.

"Day shifts got one active case going and only Ecklie and one other member of their team are working it," Nick told him, "I'd kill for a shift like that."

"Not me, man, I'd want to kill someone just to give us something to do."

* * *

"I told you everything that I knew when I talked to you last night, Mr. Grissom."

Hannah Martin sat on her bed across from Sara and Grissom in the dorm room she had shared with Allison Conners.

"Look, Miss Martin, all we're asking is if you ever saw Allison with her boyfriend," Sara said, losing her patience for the girl. "Did she ever talk about him?"

"And I'm telling you Miss Sidle, Allison and I weren't best friends," Hannah snapped, "Allison and I run with two separate crowds. I work hard here, I'm on a scholarship, I don't have time for friends."

_I know what that's like, _Sara thought.

Grissom looked at her and, for a minute, she wondered if she'd said that out loud. He turned back to Hannah, "Are you sure you never overheard her talking about her boyfriend?"

"Maybe once or twice she talked about a guy," Hannah said, rolling her eyes in annoyance, "She was always on the phone with her sister. Their calls would last for hours, it drove me crazy. It's hard to study when your roommate never shuts up."

"Do you know her sister's name?" Sara asked.

"Carly," Hannah said, "She stayed with us for little sibs' week. She's only fourteen or something."

"Thank you, Miss Martin."

Grissom shook the girl's hand and he followed Sara out of the room.

"What do you think?" Sara asked when he'd closed the door.

"I think that I'd like to speak to Allison's little sister," Grissom told her. He placed a hand on Sara's elbow and led her down the hall.

"And how, may I ask, do you propose we do that?" Sara asked, a little confused.

"There's this great little thing called the telephone, Sara," Grissom said mockingly, "Perhaps you should invest in one."

"Really?" she asked, playing along for the sake of making him smile, "Well I don't make a lot of money, you know. Maybe you could buy one for me."

"You really ought to consider working more, Sara. You'll get bigger paychecks that way."

"Hmm. I do recall a certain someone telling me that I work too much as it is."

"Really? And who would ever tell you that?"

"The slave-driver that I've got for a supervisor."

* * *

Sara pulled into the drive way of Grissom's townhouse not more that fifteen minutes after they'd left UNLV. She put the car in park and watched Grissom get out and move toward the front door. Sara hesitated. _Maybe this isn't such a good idea, _she thought, _I don't know if I can spend the next three hours alone with him without killing him. _

When Grissom paused at the door to turn and look for her, Sara made up her mind. She got out of her car and walked to the door. Grissom led her inside and she took in her surroundings.

She'd been in his home once before but it had been so long ago. He'd been forced to take a vacation, to take a leave of absence, because he refused to cooperate with the FBI on the 'Strip Strangler' case. The team had refused to cooperate without Grissom and it resulted in the group of them meeting at his house to work the case on their own. That had been the first and only time that Sara had ever seen the inside of Grissom's house.

From what she could remember, nothing had changed. He still had the same leather love seat and the same coffee table. His butterfly collection remained to be the only decoration in the bland white-walled apartment. Bookshelves. Table. Migraine pills.

Sara immediately went to the coffee table and picked up the pill bottle.

"Do you still take these?" she asked.

Grissom was already in the kitchen, searching his refrigerator for something to cook for her. He glanced at the bottle in her hand and looked away from her just as quickly.

"Every now and then," he told her, "If it's necessary. Usually, if I do get a migraine, I try to get through it without the pills. It's hard to work when you aren't functioning correctly."

Sara put the bottle back where she found it and moved around the small living room. _No TV, _she thought, _No radio but plenty of reading material. _He apparently didn't like knowing what was going on in the world around him. Sara's apartment was just the opposite. She had a television in every room, as well as a radio. Not to mention the police scanner she kept in her office and the four different national newspapers she had delivered daily. She'd be lost without it all.

When she'd reached the hallway that she assumed led back to his bedroom, she turned around and went to sit at the breakfast bar. It created half a wall that separated the living room and kitchen. Grissom placed a glass of ice water in front of Sara and she smiled at him, "Thank you."

"I figured that if I gave you a beer, we'd have a problem on our hands," he told her mockingly.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

He didn't reply. Grissom turned back to the food he'd started to prepare for her.

"What are we eating?" Sara asked, trying to look around him to the pan on the stove.

"Vegetarian stir-fry," he told her, smiling to himself at the shocked expression on her face.

"You remembered this time," she said, laughing at him a little.

"What do you mean 'this time'?" he asked, looking somewhat confused.

"Oh please, you can't tell me that you don't remember that day," Sara smiled, "You sent me a plant, Grissom."

He looked at her and smiled back, "Right, that was the day that you threatened to quit."

"Only because you wouldn't sign my leave request."

"Because the lab couldn't afford to lose you."

"Excuses, excuses."

"You were just mad at me because I asked you to clean up raw meat."

"I was mad at you because you weren't paying attention to me anymore."

"I never stopped paying attention to you, Sara."

Sara blushed and looked down at her glass of water. She was smiling and that was what he'd wanted. He took two plates from the cabinet, placing them on the counter in front of Sara. He served up their meal before joining her as she moved to his kitchen table. They sat beside each other, both moving food around on their plates with forks. Sara suddenly stopped and turned to look at him. She gave him a quick, simple kiss and whispered, "Thank you."

He kissed her back just as simply and whispered, "You're welcome."

* * *

Less than an hour later, Grissom had cleared away their dishes and they'd moved to the small love seat in the living room. They sat close together, legs touching, and Sara leaned her head against the back of the couch.

"Are you all right?" Grissom asked.

"Hmm? Yeah, I'm just tired," she said. Sara yawned then grinned at Grissom.

"It's only four o'clock," Grissom told her, glancing at his watch to keep himself from touching her. He wanted to hold her, to lie down with her again, to kiss her. "Why don't you try to sleep for an hour or so?"

_In your bed? _Sara thought. She didn't say it out loud, afraid of his reaction. _God, do I want to. You don't know how long I've dreamt of laying in your bed._

"What about our report?" she asked, trying to think of an excuse to avoid his bedroom at all costs.

"I'll type it up," he told her, "It really doesn't take both of us to write one report. You'll just have to sign it before I hand it to Mobley tonight."

"That's not fair to you," Sara said, smiling weakly for him, "Besides, I won't be able to sleep alone."

She bit her tongue. _Why the hell did I say that? _she thought. She hadn't meant to say it out loud. She'd probably scared the hell out of him and when he didn't reply she wished she could take it back.

"Grissom, I-"

He stopped her, placing a finger to her lips. He took her hand with his and pulled her to her feet. Without a word, he led her down the hall to his bedroom.


	5. Chapter Four

**Chapter Four**

Sara sat upright in Grissom's bed, suddenly feeling out of her element. She wasn't wearing her sweater and slacks, instead she wore a white tuxedo shirt Grissom had given her. She vaguely remembered the exchange, she'd been exhausted the moment her head had hit the pillow. He'd told her that she wouldn't be comfortable if she slept in the clothes she wore and he'd given her a shirt and left her alone to change. When she'd finished, she crawled under the blankets on his bed and called for him to come back into the room. He must've stayed with her until she fell asleep because she didn't remember him leaving again.

Sara glanced at the clock. She'd been asleep for more than an hour and she only had fifteen minutes to get dressed and head out the door to the lab. _Why didn't he wake me up?_ She thought as she crawled out of the bed. She moved to the chair where Grissom had laid her discarded clothes and began to change. Quickly adjusting her clothes, Sara folded Grissom's shirt and headed for the living room.

She made it to the end of the hall and was about to step into the room when she heard Grissom speaking to someone. The voice she heard in return scared her to death. _Catherine._

Sara turned and tiptoed back toward Grissom's bedroom. Being seen coming out of Grissom's bedroom would be bad. She could always lie and say she'd been in the bathroom, although she didn't know how long Catherine had been there. _Maybe that's why he didn't wake me up, _Sara thought. _God, this is bad. _She moved far enough down the hall to hide herself. She didn't go back into the bedroom simply because she wanted to hear the conversation between Grissom and Catherine.

"How'd it go with Sara?" Catherine asked, making Sara tense.

"What do you mean?" Grissom asked, "The entire thing with Mobley?"

"Yeah," Catherine replied, "How'd she take it?"

"Not well," Grissom told her, his voice completely emotionless. Sara shivered, wrapping her arms around herself.

"Did she blow up at you?" Catherine asked.

"No, but she wasn't happy."

Catherine laughed lightly, "I don't know why she would be."

"Neither do I," Grissom said, "I understand why she's angry, I am as well. I'm just worried that this is going to become a problem for her."

"I agree," Catherine said, a new serious tone to her voice, "Sara already too emotionally involved."

To that Grissom didn't respond. He knew she was emotionally involved, as she had been before, but now it was different. Sara was emotionally involved with him, to a point where neither of them could turn back. He didn't want to hurt her, he'd done enough of that in their past. He too was involved. He was in love with her.

"Keep an eye on her, Gil," Catherine said, "We can't afford to lose Sara. She's a good asset to the lab and the guys and I love her. . . and she may even be good for you."

Sara smiled at Grissom's silence.

What was he supposed to say to that? If he told Catherine that he agreed with her, he'd be acting uncharacteristically and she'd know that something had happened. He needed Sara and she damn well knew it now, he wouldn't let her go.

"I'll do what I can, Catherine," Grissom said instead, "I'm picking her up for the shift soon, I'll talk to her then."

"Just. . .be gentle when you do," Catherine warned as Sara heard the front door open, "Be gentle and be calm."

Nothing else was said and the door was closed. Sara stepped into the living room behind Grissom.

"Hi," she said quietly.

He turned to face her and held out his arms. Sara smiled and stepped into them.

"Am I good for you?" she asked, stepping back enough to smile at him.

Grissom smiled at her in return and bent to kiss her quickly.

"More than you know," he whispered against her lips, "More than you know."

* * *

The ride to the lab was quiet. Sara was lost in thought as she drove and Grissom watched her tentatively. She was frustrated, confused, he could see it in her eyes. He went to reach out for her when his cell phone rang shrilly.

"Grissom."

"Gil, it's Jim," Brass' voice greeted him. "I contacted Allison Conners' family, they'll be in Vegas by midnight."

"Thanks, Jim," Grissom said, stealing a glance at Sara, "We're on our way in."

Grissom disconnected the call and put the phone back into his pocket. He focused on the road as Sara turned into the parking garage.

"I'll take our report to Mobley," he told her, "Brass brought in Allison Conners' family from Seattle and I want you to take another look at the file. Prepare yourself for interrogation."

"Of who?" Sara asked.

"The little sister."

"Me?" She asked, pulling into her regular parking space, "But I'm too emotionally involved."

She smirked at Grissom and he looked at her with the mock-serious grin that he often abused. They sat in the car for a minute without speaking before Sara unbuckled her seatbelt.

"We should go in," she told him, "If someone from day shift sees us just sitting here, all hell will break loose."

Grissom nodded his head in agreement, silently wishing he could have a few more minutes alone with her but knowing that she was write. He followed her movements as they both climbed out of the car, retrieving their kits from the backseat before heading into the building.

* * *

Nick opened the driver's side door of David James' brand new Jeep Wrangler. Warrick was leaning over the passenger seat with a flashlight and pair of tweezers in hand.

"No trash," Nick pointed out, "How new do you think this thing is?"

"Less than a month," Warrick guessed, "It's possible he's got the title in the glove box."

"You wanna pop that open?"

Warrick quickly replaced the flashlight and tweezer with rubber gloves and a krobar. He opened the glovebox and began handing Nick various slips of paper. Receipts, proof of insurance, certificate of vehicle ownership and the state of Nevada vehicle registration title.

"Purchased Monday morning," Nick stated, reading the registration certificate, "Morning after Erin James went home."

"What do you want to bet we aren't going to find anything in this car?"

"Hand me the luminal and hit the lights."

Warrick did as he was asked and Nick sprayed the back seat of the Jeep with the luminal. There was no reaction.

* * *

Grissom didn't bother to hand the file directly to Sheriff Mobley. He gave the report to the secretary, politely asking her to deliver it for him and left in the direction of his own office. He gathered his messages from the front desk, grabbed a cup of fresh coffee from the break room and retreated to the solace of his office.

He sat down at his desk, took a look over the paperwork there and wondered where Sara was. He'd instructed her to go over their case but she hadn't been in the break room and that was generally where she would sit and read. He glanced at the clock behind his desk. They had more than an hour before the family of Allison Conners was supposed to arrive, giving him plenty of time to find Sara or do paperwork. _What a choice. _Going looking for Sara with nothing insanely important to tell her would look suspicious. However, he had the strong desire to see her again and he would never be able to get anything done if he didn't talk to her for a few moments.

Before Grissom even had the opportunity to get out of his chair, the office door was open and Sara was standing in front of him.

"Do you mind if I read in here?" she asked, "Between Nick, Warrick and Greg I can't find a quiet place to go over this file."

Had she read his mind?

"Of course," he said, smiling to himself, "Close the door and pull up a chair. I have some paperwork to do so as long as you don't read out loud, we won't have a problem."

Sara gave him her million dollar smile and Grissom immediately felt better. He opened the first file in his large pile and began to read. Having her sitting across from him seemed to make him relax and he was able to concentrate on his work for the first time in months.

* * *

Grissom's pager beeped loudly in the silent office and he and Sara both jumped in surprise. They hadn't spoken to each other in more than an hour. Comfortable silence had quickly surrounded them once they'd started working and Grissom was a little angry that it had been interrupted. He glanced at the screen and recognized Brass' page, "Allison Conners' family is waiting for us."

"Right," Sara said, standing, "I think I'm ready."

"You'll be fine, Sara," Grissom told her, leading her from the office with his hand on her elbow, "You've done this a thousand times."

"I've never had to tell anyone that their daughter was dead," she told them, her voice shaking slightly, "They've always known before I've talked to them."

"You'll be fine," he told her again, "I'll be right beside you."

* * *

"Mr. James, can you tell us where your car is?" Nick asked.

He and Warrick sat across from the man that they'd suspected of killing Erin James. He was visually nervous, hands clenched into fists and a gleam of sweat along his hairline. Nick took note of the way that the man tapped his foot beneath the table. He wasn't quite sure if David James was showing signs of quilt or drug use.

"What do you mean?" James asked, "You people took my car this morning, said it was part of your investigation."

"Not that car, Mr. James," Warrick said, sliding an evidence bag across the table, "That's the title to your brand new Jeep. The date I highlighted, proves to me that you bought this car the morning after your sister's disappearance. So, where's your _old_ car, Mr. James?"

James' lawyer sat to the man's left and leaned over to whisper something in his clients ear. James nodded, then whispered a response to his lawyer.

"I made a trade in," James explained, "You'll have to talk to the dealership to find out what happened to that P.O.S."

Nick glanced at Warrick as he spoke to David James, "And what, exactly, was the make and model of the P.O.S.?"

"A ninety-two Chevy Cavalier."

"Thank you, Mr. James," Nick said, "We'll be in touch."

* * *

Warrick and Nick entered Jackson Chevrolet less than twenty minutes after leaving the interrogation room. They'd been lucky when they'd called and reached the manager as he was walking out the door. Gary Jackson had been all too willing to help and agreed to meet Nick and Warrick outside of the dealership.

"Mr. Jackson?" Nick said, holding his hand out to the man, "My name is Nick Stokes, we spoke on the phone?"

"Of course," Mr. Jackson said, shaking Nick's hand and nodding at Warrick, "What can I do for you?"

"We're with the Las Vegas crime lab," Warrick explained, "We need to take a look at a trade-in you received on Monday morning. A ninety-two Cavalier."

"Color?" Jackson asked, leading the two CSIs into his building.

"Don't know," Nick said, "But we have the paper work on the sale."

Nick handed Jackson the title and registration to David James' Jeep.

"I'll look it up in the system," Jackson told them, taking a seat at the nearest computer. He punched a few keys and gave a sigh of remembrance.

"This guy was an asshole," Jackson said, "He was pushing and a pig. His hands were shaking so bad that I thought the guy was on crack. And his mother was an even bigger pain in the ass."

"His mother?" Nick asked, he and Warrick glancing at each other. "Are you sure?"

"Definitely," Jackson said. He turned the screen to show them. "She paid with her credit card."

* * *

When Grissom and Sara entered the interrogation room with Allison Conners' family, they had a plan of action in mind. Grissom would relieve Sara of the burden of talking with Allison's parents and Sara would talk to Allison's little sister.

"Mr. and Mrs. Conners, I am Gil Grissom and this is Sara Sidle," he began, sitting down across from Allison's parents. He nodded toward Allison's sister, "Carly, right? Would you mind stepping into the hall with Miss Sidle while I speak to your parents?"

The young woman, who looked to Sara like she was only sixteen or seventeen, glanced at her father. He nodded his approval and the girl moved toward Sara. Sara put an arm around the girl's shoulders and led her from the room.

Grissom waited for the door to close behind them before turning back to the people in the room with him.

"Mr. and Mrs. Conners, did detective Brass speak to you about your daughter?" Grissom asked.

"Briefly," Mr. Conners replied, "Please, tell us what happened to Allison."

"I'm very sorry to tell you this-" Mrs. Conners began to cry and Grissom continued sadly, "But you're daughter has been killed."

"Oh god," Mrs. Conners cried, turning to weep on her husband's shoulder, "Allie."

"Mr. and Mrs. Conners, I want to assure you that Miss Sidle and I are doing everything in our power to find out who did this to your daughter," Grissom told them, suddenly feeling that it weren't true, "If you could, I just have a few questions I'd like to ask you before Miss Sidle brings Carly back in."

* * *

Sara led Carly Conners to a bench just outside the interrogation room door. They sat down and Sara took a tape recorder from her pocket, showing it to the girl beside her.

"Carly, do you mind if I ask you a few questions about you sister?" Sara asked.

"Sure," Carly replied, folding her hands nervously in her lap.

"All right, um, Allison's roomate Hannah told Dr. Grissom and I that you visited your sister for little sibs weekend at their dormroom," Sara began, "Did you have fun?"

"Yeah, it was okay," Carly said, "There isn't a lot that I'm allowed to do in Vegas, though, I'm only sixteen."

"Right," Sara said again, "So, what'd you two do then?"

"Hung out at the dorm mostly, it wasn't exactly my dream vacation," Carly said, shrugging a little.

"Did you meet any of your sister's friends?"

"Besides Hannah?" Carly asked, "Not really. She took me with her to the bar where she works and I met a couple people there, but no one at the school."

"No one?" Sara asked.

"Not that I can remember," Carly said.

Sara watched the girl as she began twisting the ring on her right hand nervously. She kept her gaze down and Sara immediately reacted to this.

"Look, Carly, whatever you tell me, I promise that I won't tell anyone else," Sara assured her, "You aren't going to get in any trouble."

Carly looked around to make sure that no one could hear them.

"My sister wasn't the perfect angel my parents make her out to be," Carly muttered, "She worked at a strip club, bar thing. She was a whore if you ask me, but whatever. I would never say that to my parents, they'd kill me."

"I'm not gonna tell them anything that you tell me, Carly," Sara told the girl, "I just want to help your sister."

"The only person I met at UNLV besides Allie's roomate was her boyfriend."

Sara perked up, "Boyfriend?"

"Yeah, but Al made me swear not to talk about him because he's one of her professors," Carly said, shaking her head, "God, she was such a tramp."

"Carly, do you remember the professor's name? Or what class he taught?"

"Sure," Carly said, "His name was Rick and he taught Spanish. I remember because he kept calling Allie _senorita_."

"Do you remeber the professor's last name, Carly? Rick what?" Sara asked.

"I'm not sure," Carly said, thinking for a minute before shrugging, "I don't know."

"You know what? That's all right, Rick is enough for me to go on," Sara told her, "Rick and he teaches Spanish. You've helped a lot, thank you."

"No problem," Carly said, "Just don't tell Allison that I'm the one who told you, all right? She'll never forgive me."

"Of course," Sara said, feeling her heart breaking. _She doesn't even know, _Sara thought, _She doesn't know her sister's dead._

* * *

Sara led Carly Conners back to the interrogation room. Grissom left the girl and her parents alone and joined Sara in the hall. They walked toward the elevator.

"The parents don't know anything about Allison's boyfriend," Grissom told her, "They barely knew their daughter."

"It seems that the little sister knew Allison well enough," Sara said, reaching out to push the button for their elevator. "She met Allison's boyfriend, Rick, over little sibs week. He's a Spanish professor."

"Are you sure?" Grissom asked.

"No, but I'll run a background check on the employees at UNLV and see if there's a Rick or Richard that teaches Spanish," Sara replied, "If I get a match, we'll bring him in and get a warrant."

"Switch that," Grissom told her, "I want the warrant first."

* * *

Sara had been in trace for nearly an hour. Her head hurt and her stomach had been growling for longer than she could remember. A complete list of all UNLV part-time and full-time staff was listed on the screen in front of her. There wasn't a single Rick or Richard listed in the employee records and the only Spanish professors at UNLV were women.

"Find anything?"

Sara jumped at the sound of Grissom's voice, her heart in her throat momentarily.

"Damn it, I hate it when you do that to me," she snapped.

Grissom smiled at her, "Sorry."

"Liar," Sara muttered, "And, no, I didn't find anything. Nothing useful anyway. Not a single UNLV employee named Rick or Richard. I even checked for middle names. Nada."

"No pun intended I take it?"

Sara smiled, "Didn't even realize I said it."

"Maybe we should talk to Allison's little sister again," Grissom said, trying to sound more serious. "Maybe she was confused."

"I doubt it," Sara told him, "She seemed to know what she was talking about. Hey, and you want to know what else doesn't fit into this story? There isn't a single male Spanish professor at UNLV."

Grissom took that piece of information in and Sara watched him as he thought.

"Try TAs," Grissom told her, "They like to get 'involved' with the students."

Sara felt the blush creep up her cheeks as Grissom smiled at her.

"TAs aren't in the staff registry," Sara told him, "I'd have to talk to the teachers one by one."

* * *

For what seemed like the twelth time to Sara, Grissom pulled her Tahoe into the UNLV parking lot and they exited the car together.

"Dr. Serena Cerrezuela, head of the Foreign Language department," Sara said, reading her file as Grissom held the door for her.

They approached the young woman sitting at the desk outside of Dr. Cerrezuela's office. It was obvioud to Sara that the girl was a student, probably in her first or second year of school. Grissom requested a meeting with Dr. Cerrezuela and Sara let him lead her to a couch on the opposite side of the office waiting room.

"Dr. Cerrezuela should have a complete list of her professors' T.A.s," Sara said, "I remember working for Dr. Baker. He was the head of the science department at Harvard. I used to have to deal with the T.A.s all the time. Professors would come in and complain that their assistants weren't meeting job criteria."

"You worked for the department head?" Grissom asked, eyeing her curiously.

"Of course, I was a kiss-up, remember? I did whatever I had to in order to stay involved in my environment," Sara said. She smiled at Grissom's amused look.

"And the T.A. from the airplane?"

"Why are you so curious about the guy from the plane?" Sara asked.

"I just like to know what I'm up against, Sara, you know that."

Grissom smiled and she smiled back, silently reminding herself never to talk about her initiation into the 'mile high club'.

"When we get back to the lab, I'm going to need you to go over all of the class rosters that I requested as well as the list of assistants. Break the list down. Find out who lived in Bellview and start the search for 'Rick' there," Grissom instructed.

"Are we straying from the little sister's idea about a Spanish professor?"

"No, I think that the 'spanish' part of the sister's statement was correct, I think that Joey may have misinterpreted what he saw at the bar."

Dr. Cerrezuela had now started toward them and Grissom stood to introduce himself. Sara stood closely behind him.

"Dr. Cerrezuela, my name is Gil Grissom, I'm with the Las Vegas crime lab," Grissom began, "This is Sara Sidle and we'd like to speak with you about a student. Allison Conners. She's a Spanish major."

"Of course, Miss Conners is Professor Talbott's teaching assistant," Dr. Cerrezuela told them.

Grissom and Sara glanced at each other.

"Dr. Cerrezuela, we're going to need a list of all of the assitants in your department."

**

* * *

2:00 a.m.**

Sara rested her head in her hands as fatigue and frustration hit her hard. She and Grissom had picked up food for themselves on the way back to the lab but that had been nearly five hours earlier. Now, she sat in the quiet of the evidence locker with two folders open on the table in front of her; T.A.s and Allison's classmates.

Sara's stomach growled loudly. She wrapped an arm around her waist in annoyance. _God, I need a break, _she thought.

She closed her eyes at the gentle feel of a hand on her lower back and inhaled sharply.

"Take a break," Grissom's voice said from a close distance, "You've been back here all night."

"Allison Conners took a lot of lecture courses," Sara said, ignoring his persistent hand on her spine. "There are approximately ninety-five students in each of her eight classes this semester."

"Eight classes, that's an excessive schedule."

"I had eight classes my freshman year," Sara told him, smiling to herself, "I had twelve classes my junior and senior years and they were all labs."

"Why doesn't that surprise me?"

Sara laughed, "But my classes were less than twenty students each. God, I miss Harvard."

"How many rosters do you have left to go?" Grissom asked. Sara felt his hand leave her back and she fought the urge to protest.

"Five," she told him, "But I've cleared the T.A.s, not a single one lives in Bellview."

"All right, I want you to take a break," Grissom said again, "You should eat."

"Come with me," Sara said before she could stop herself.

"I ate already, Sara," Grissom said. She detected the immediate annoyance in his voice at her slip-up.

"Right, um, I'll be in the break room if you need me," she stood and turned to face him now, "My notes are a little messy so, if you need an interpreter, come and get me."

"I've graded your papers before Sara, I think I can manage."

* * *

Sara slept curled up in a chair in the break room, a book open in her lap along with her half-eaten sandwhich. Nick didn't bother to wake her as he and Warrick sat down at the table.

"Think she's even been home in the last twenty four hours?" Nick asked.

Warrick shrugged, handing Nick a can of pop from the refrigerator, "I doubt it."

"Grissom's got her killing herself over this case," Nick said, a hint of bitterness in his voice, "The girl needs a break every now and then."

"It's not like she's working it alone, man. Grissom's been at it just as long as she has," Warrick replied, "They're both just trying to get the thing over with."

"I know that," Nick said appologetically, "But we all know how much this stuff wears Sara out, the girl doesn't sleep enough as it is."

"I don't think 'the girl' would be to happy if she woke up to the two of you talking about her."

"Hey Cath," Nick said, pulling a chair out for the other CSI, "What are you doin' here?"

"Grissom paged me," Catherine explained, "I guess he and Sara need a hand with their case."

Grissom entered the break room just as Catherine finished her sentence. He handed her a case file, "Brass just called. We've got a D.B. at the Bellogio. Room 431. Sorry to call you in, Catherine."

"It's fine," Catherine said, glancing at Nick and Warrick, "I just thought maybe you and Sar needed a hand with your case. Guess everyone's still backed up."

"Where is Sara?" Grissom asked.

He had missed her when he'd entered and Catherine now pointed somewhere behind him. He turned, noticing how young Sara looked asleep in a chair behind him.

"How long has she been like that?" Grissom asked, whispering so that he wouldn't wake her.

"Don't know," Nick replied, lowering his voice as well, "We've only been here about ten minutes."

Grissom wanted to go over to her then, to wake her up gently. He wanted to kiss her. He shook his head, pushing all thought aside before going over to his sleeping CSI.

"Sara," Grissom said, shaking her slightly, "Sara."

She opened her eyes slowly, sleepy brown eyes meeting very serious blue ones.

"Oh God, Grissom, I'm sorry," she said quickly, sitting up now and running a hand through her hair. "How long have I been asleep?"

"That's a good question," Nick said from the table.

Sara jumped at the sound of his voice, not realizing that she and Grissom had company. She scanned the faces of the others before noticing the clock over Warrick's head.

"Wow," she muttered, "I must've slept for five hours."

"It's all right, Sara," Grissom said, trying not to sound guilty for waking her, "I've been awake as long as you have and if I'd gotten the chance, I would've slept to."

Sara smiled, a little embarrassed that everyone had witnessed her lying there sound asleep. She prayed that she hadn't said anything stupid. She stood up then on weak legs and stretched her arms above her head.

Grissom analyzed the way that she smiled and the tone of her voice. She was uncomfortable standing there with the rest of the team staring at them. He stepped back.

"Why don't you go home and get cleaned up," Grissom suggested, "Meet me back here in an hour or so. We've got a new lead."

"Right," Sara said, glancing at the clock again. She picked up her book and moved around Grissom to leave the room, "I'll be back soon. Thanks."

"You're welcome, Sara."

Grissom waited until Sara had disappeared down the hall before turning to address the rest of the team.

"Nick, how's your breaking and entering coming?" Grissom asked in order to take the focus off of their departing CSI.

"We still haven't found Erin James, but there are definite traces of blood in the brother's car," Nick told him.

"We're waiting on Brass and our warrant to search the brother's house," Warrick said.

"Right, keep me updated."

The boys got up to go, leaving Grissom and Catherine alone in the breakroom.

"Is she all right?" Catherine asked.

"Who?"

"Sara, Gil, is she okay?" Catherine asked again, annoyed at his attempt to avoid the subject, "She seems upset."

"Well, with Mobley's reaction to our situation, she has a reason to be," Grissom told her, pouring himself a cup of coffee.

"I take it he still doesn't believe the accident report?" Catherine asked.

"It's not that he doesn't believe the accident report so much as he doesn't believe what happened at the motel," Grissom explained. He turned to go to his office and Catherine followed.

"He thinks that something happened between you and Sara?"

"That's putting it lightly."

"So, what did happen?" Catherine asked, "I mean, I can't help you if you don't tell me the truth."  
Grissom fell into the chair behind his desk. It was obvious to Catherine that he was exhausted and that neither he nor Sara had slept for more than a few hours at a time. She sat down across from him and settled in for a long explanation. He took a slow drink of his coffee before looking up at her.

"There isn't much to tell, Catherine," he told her, "The things that Sara and I discussed were personal, things that aren't work related and don't concern Mobley at all."

"All right, I understand that," Catherine said, "But I'm your friend, Gil, and whatever you say to me, stays right here. What happened?"

Grissom hesitated, looking down into his coffee cup again.

"I had a. . . a revalation," he said slowly.

"About your relationship with Sara?" Catherine asked.

"Yes, and other things," he said, "I can't keep denying how I feel about her, Catherine."

She smiled at him.

"What?" Grissom asked.

"Nothing," Catherine said, "I'm just glad that you finally realized that there is something between the two of you. It means you're growing."

"How so?" Grissom asked, smiling as well.

"You're letting go, Gil," she told him, "Work isn't the most important thing in your world anymore."

"I think you're over estimating what happened between Sara and I," Grissom said, making Catherine laugh.

She stood up to go, "I think I'll join Nick and Warrick on their case."

"Hey, Cath, can you give me a ride?"

"Sure, where to?"

Grissom didn't answer and Catherine knew exactly where she was going.


	6. Chapter Five

**Chapter Five**

When Catherine had pulled out of the parking garage of Sara's apartment building, Grissom went inside. He walked the stairs to her second floor apartment and stood in front of her door for a minute. He wasn't exactly sure why he'd come. He wanted to see her, yes, but they'd be working their case together in less than an hour. He wanted to hold her, to tell her what he'd told Catherine. He didn't want to do that in the car, that's why he'd come, they needed to talk.

He knocked lightly on the door and waited for an answer. When he didn't get one after five minutes, he decided that she was probably in the shower. He tried the door knob and was surprised to find that it was unlocked. Not like Sara at all.

Grissom entered her apartment as though it were a crime scene, taking in every misplaced object like evidence. He moved through her living room, noticing the clutter on her desk in the corner. A desk top computer, her police scanner, and many other electronic gadgets that Grissom couldn't identify. Her coffee table was littered with mail-order catalogues, the type of thing he'd expected her to have lying around. He moved down the hallway toward the sound of running water.

When he reached the bathroom door, Grissom stopped. He wasn't sure how she'd react if he simply walked into her bathroom. Although, if he knocked she'd probably have a gun in his face when she opened the door. _Maybe I should just wait in the living room, _Grissom thought.

He didn't. He opened the door slowly, hoping that she hadn't heard it. He left it cracked behind him and stood stock still in the middle of her bathroom. He could make out the outline of her body through the purple shower curtain and his breath was caught in her throat.

Grissom turned to go, he should've waited in the living room. If Sara pulled back that shower curtain to find him standing there staring at her, she'd be embarrassed and possibly angry. He didn't want her to get upset. But he couldn't make himself leave her either. He wanted to be there when she got out of the shower, water dripping off of ivory skin, hair matted to her face and neck. He couldn't make himself leave.

Grissom removed his glasses and fought with himself. _What the hell am I doing? _he thought, _I shouldn't be here. I can't take this back. _

He was just standing there. Head down, glasses in his hand. Sara didn't know what to do. He didn't seem to know that she'd shut the water off or that she was standing in front of him in only a towel. She wasn't sure if she should say anything, she didn't want to scare him. Although, finding him standing in the middle of her bathroom had sure as hell scared her. She took a chance and cleared her throat.

Grissom looked up, not visibly startled, but Sara could see it in his eyes. He replaced his glasses on his nose and simply stared at her through them.

"Grissom, are you all right?" she asked, taking a step toward him.

At her movement, he took a step back.

"I'll wait for you outside," he said, quickly turning to the door again.

Sara caught his arm before he could leave, forcing him to turn and look at her.

"Hey, Grissom, you don't have to leave."

"I do, actually, because, if I stay, I may do something that I can't take back," he told her. "And I can't hurt you like that, Sara. I love you too much."

Sara stopped trying to move him. She simply took a step closer to him and wrapped her arms around his neck. "I love you, too, Grissom."

Grissom's hands stayed at his side. He couldn't touch her, not when she was naked under the towel she wore. He'd end up throwing the towel aside and taking her right there on the bathroom floor. He wouldn't be able to stop himself.

"I really should go, honey," he said, his voice low and raspy. "I'll wait in the living room."

Sara stepped back, smiling at him and taking his hands in hers for a moment, "I'll be out in a sec."

She kissed him quickly, not wanting to make him uncomfortable, and watched his back as he left her there.

"God, do I love you."

* * *

Grissom sat on the couch in Sara's living room, flipping through a furniture catalogue he'd found on her coffee table. He'd left her in the bathroom almost half an hour ago and he couldn't help checking his watch every few minutes. They needed to head out. He'd asked Brass to meet them at the bar where Allison Conners had worked. He wanted to question Joey again and show the young man the picture of 'Rick' he'd found in Allison's wallet.

Sara leaned against the arch way that lead down the hall to her bedroom. Grissom was obviously growing restless sitting on her couch. He'd been staring at the same page in her magazine for the last five minutes. She cleared her throat for the second time that evening and he turned around only to gape at her before snapping his mouth shut.

Grissom was stunned. Never in all of the years that he'd known Sara Sidle had he ever seen her look so sexy. She stood in the doorway, wearing a pair of tight black pants, an even tighter pink tank-top, and an enticing pair of black sandals that gave him a glimpse of her perfectly painted toe nails. Her hair was pulled half up, small curls falling around her face which was done up in the most exotic way.

"Why do I have a feeling this has something to do with me?" he asked, moving toward her as she pushed off of the wall. She took a couple of steps toward him.

"I figured we could have breakfast after shift," she said, her arms going around his neck again. She leaned in and kissed him, letting it linger a little longer. He didn't hold back then, his arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her body tightly against his.

"I think that we can arrange that," he said against her lips, "I meant what I said in there, honey, I love you."

She smiled.

"I love you, too, Gil."

For a moment, neither of them moved. Grissom couldn't seem to pull himself away from her. He'd never heard her say his name like that, she'd never actually called him by his first name, it had always seemed so personal. She'd said it casually just then, but there was meaning behind it. She loved him.

Sara took a step back and out of Grissom's arms.

"We should go."

"I know, Brass is waiting for us," Grissom said, taking the keys from Sara's hand, "I'll drive."

They were switching gears again and Sara knew that their romantic moment was over. Grissom picked up a file from the coffee table, on Sara knew she hadn't put there, and ushered her out the door.

"Where are we going?"

They'd been on the road for almost twenty minutes and Grissom hadn't said a word since leaving her apartment. He had held her hand for nearly the entire drive but Sara couldn't get him to look at her.

"Back to the bar where Allison worked," Grissom explained, still focused on the road ahead, "I found a photograph in Allison's wallet and the man in the picture doesn't fit the description that Joey gave us."

"Do you think that Joey was like any other eyewitness and didn't see what he thought he saw?" Sara asked.

Grissom looked at her then and Sara thought he was a little angry.

"It's clinically proven that if a person loses one of their five senses, the other four are greatly heightened," Grissom told her, "I don't doubt that Joey gave us an exact description of what he saw, I think that this 'Rick' person, is not a professor of Allison's, nor is he the man that Joey saw in the bar."

"And the man in the picture?"

"The name on the back of the photo, 'Rick'."

* * *

Warrick stood at the front door of David James' residence. A double-wide trailer dropped on a chunk of property in the middle of the Nevada desert. He wasn't at all surprised to see the shitty environment that the man lived in, he was a known drug addict. An addiction that could cost a few thousand dollars a month depending on the drug. Not to mention the guy, judging by the amount of liquor bottles littering the front yard, was probably an alcoholic.

Nick stood beside Warrick and beat on the front door of the trailer. No one was answering.

"Come on man!" Nick shouted, throwing his hands up in defeat, "The guy's gotta be here, his brand new Jeep's sittin right there!"

"Maybe this guys stupider than we thought," Warrick said. He turned to the LVPD lieutenant behind him, "Let's get the dogs out here, I wanna know if Erin James is on this property."

The lieutenant nodded at Warrick's idea and climbed into his car to radio for backup. Beside him, Nick had pulled on a pair of latex gloves and drew his gun.

"Wanna take a look inside?" he asked Warrick.

Warrick drew his own gun, glancing at Nick as he did so. Together, they kicked in the front door.

* * *

Grissom and Sara pulled up beside Brass' Taurus in the parking lot of the Sundown Sands bar and night club. The two CSIs exited their vehicle, Grissom carrying a UNLV yearbook, and were promptly joined by Brass at the door of the bar.

"You wanna tell me with brought me out here again?" Brass asked.

"I called the bar's owner and requested another meeting with Joey," Grissom explained, "I think that Sara and I have been going the wrong way with this case."

"How so?" Sara asked.

"I'm not so sure that the boyfriend should be our only suspect, Sara, we need to figure out who this 'professor' is. I think that he may help us figure out who killed Allison Conners," Grissom told her.

"You think that a photo from that yearbook will prompt Joey's memory?" she asked.

"I'm hoping."

The three of them entered the bar only to be greeted by a waitress in an outfit Sara would never even consider wearing. The girl was showing so much clevage that Sara was tempted to ask her to change her shirt. She kept her mind on their case and glanced out of Grissom out of the corner of her eye. He didn't seem to notice the girl even as she led them to the bar. He was walking very close to her and Sara was tempted to grab his hand when it brushed against hers. Instead, she tried to decide what he was seeing as he scanned the crowd of people.

"She couldn't have screamed," Sara said, noticing it too, "Everyone in this bar would have heard her. I mean, it's pretty quiet in her for a club."

"I don't think that she screamed at all. I think that she knew the man that attacked her, which leads me toward the boyfriend or the professor."

They reached the bar and the waitress led them to the back room. Joey sat there waiting for them with his back to the door. Sara watched the waitress walk around the table so that Joey could see her and she pointed past him to the three of them standing their.

Grissom signed something to Joey and Sara didn't catch any of his gestures. He moved faster than he had the last time and he wasn't verbally asking his questions.

"Grissom, slow down or talk to me because I can't read your hands that quickly," Sara said, not wanting to interrupt him or upset him.

He stopped completely and turned to look at her.

"You know sign language?" he asked, a little surprised.

"I'm trying to learn," she said, "A friend of mine had a hearing problem a few months back."

Grissom didn't see anything but Sara could see the shock on his face. He turned back to Joey, signing to him again but now speaking for Sara's benefit.

"Joey, I need you to look through this yearbook and tell me if you recognize the man that Allison fought with that night."

Grissom placed the yearbook on the table in front of Joey, open to the faculty pages. It didn't take long for the young man to point out the professor he'd seen with Allison Conners and Grissom wasn't surprised to see that it was Professor Jason Talbott.

"Are you sure this is the same man?" Grissom asked.

Joey signed something Sara didn't understand to Grissom. He nodded his head, thanked Joey, and turned to go. Sara picked up the yearbook and followed Brass and Grissom out of the back room and into the bar again. Grissom was walking quickly ahead of her, talking to Brass and Sara thought that he might be angry that she'd known about his hearing problems. Not that he had any right to be angry, she was the one who should be angry. He hadn't trusted her.

They reached the parking lot and Sara climbed into the passenger seat of the Tahoe and slammed the door. She was slightly irritated now that he'd become annoyed with her. She didn't want to talk to him, she didn't want to look at him. He was acting like the things that had happened between them were nonexistent and he was back to being the closed-up, private Grissom she'd fought with for so long. She shouldn't have let him know that she knew.

Grissom finished his conversation and climbed into the Tahoe after Sara. He started the car and waited for Brass to pull out of the parking lot before shutting it off again. He turned to Sara who looked at him confused and a little hurt.

"Catherine told you." He wasn't asking.

"She confirmed it for me, yeah, but I'm not an idiot, Grissom. You asked me to come to Vegas four years ago because you know that I'm a good investigator, you know that I can read people well," she said, "You started acting more distant than normal, even on our important cases. One of us could be telling you the breaking piece of evidence and it was like you were in a different world. I'm not the only one who noticed. Catherine and I talked about it even before you told her. Nick and Warrick, they had the same idea. But we all know how you are, locked up inside your own head half of the time, none of us wanted to piss you off by invading your personal space."

Grissom didn't say anything. He sat there across from her, staring down at his hands and Sara knew that he was lost in thought. Trapped somewhere inside his head. She didn't bother trying to get in there, she knew it wasn't possible without his consent. Sara simply reached out and wrapped her fingers with his in an attempt to comfort him and let him know she was there for him.

"I'm sorry," was all he said.

Sara wanted to throw her arms around him and tell him she loved him. She wanted him to know that, no matter what happened, she'd always be there for him. She didn't say anything.

"I'm so sorry, Sara, I wish I'd told you, I wish that you could have been there when I needed you," he said hoarsly, "I wanted you there, but I was. . ."

"Its okay, Gil, you don't have to say anything," Sara said, now sliding as close to him in her chair as she could, "I love you, that's all that matters now."

His arms went around her then and Sara had to force herself not to cry. She rested her head on his shoulder, running her fingers through the curly hair on the back of his neck. He pulled her closer.

"Sara?"

"Yeah?"

She pulled back to look up into his eyes that now seemed a few shades darker.

"Well this is all over, when we're through with this case," he told her, "I'm giving you a few days off, and I'm considering joining you."

Sara smiled at him, "How many days are we talking here, Dr. Grissom?"

"As many as you need, honey, and as many as I can stand."

* * *

Sara and Grissom followed Brass back to Vegas. They approached the lab and he turned off ahead of them. Grissom proceeded to pass the lab and Sara looked at him curiously.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

He didn't answer. He picked her hand up out of her lap and held it in his.

"I thought we could use a break," he told her, "Give Brass some time to find Professor Talbott."

"Coffee?" Sara asked.

"Or dinner."  
"Hmm, I'm not really that hungry."

"We can have coffee," Grissom said.

He turned onto Fourteenth Street and pulled into a small, all-night diner that Sara had never noticed before. Grissom got out of the car first and came around to open the door for her.

"Thank you," she said, climbing out of the Tahoe and taking his hand in hers again.

Grissom smiled at her and lead her into the diner.

* * *

"Do you _ever _watch t/v?" Sara asked, laughing at him.

Grissom laughed with her as he took another drink of his coffee.

Sara was relieved. The change of atmosphere had settled them both and they'd been able to fall back into their quiet rhythm. She had always tried to be patient with Grissom, to give him his space, but, as they became closer and he gave her a little slack, she wanted more. For now though, she was happy that he was comfortable being with her, laughing with her. It had been a long time since they'd been able to laugh.

"You've seen my apartment, Sara," Grissom said, "And my office, I have so many other distractions that a television is unnecessary."

"I think I'd die without my t/v. The silence of living alone would make me crazy. Between the scanner, the radio and the t/v I barely have enough noise to keep me company."

Grissom laughed again, "I know you talk to yourself, Sara."

"No I don't!" Sara laughed, feeling herself blush, "Well, maybe sometimes, but I have to be really bored."

They both laughed again but silence soon fell between them. Comfortable silence, but silence none the less. Sara stared down into her coffee cup, stirring in slowly with her finger. Grissom watched her and admired her lazy concentration.

"Maybe I can keep you company," he said softly.

Sara stopped stirring and looked up.

"I'd like that," she said, smiling at him.

They were silent again, both of them taking in what their agreement meant. He was making a commitment to her, a small one, but she would take it. She was admitting that she wanted him to stick around, giving him hope that what they were doing could last. He needed that.

Grissom's pager went off and they both jumped a little at the sound.

"It's Brass."

"Figures," Sara said, sticking her finger in her mouth to taste the coffee there.

"We'll make a date out of breakfast," Grissom told her, tossing a couple of dollars on the table between them. "I'll even turn my cell phone off."

"Pager, too, and you've got a deal," Sara said, smiling at him wickedly.

"Deal."

Sara smiled again, "So, what would you like in return?"

Grissom didn't say anything for a minute and Sara tried to imagine what he would say.

He laughed then, "I'm sure you'll think of something."

* * *

Warrick and Nick hadn't expected to find David James at home when they'd kicked down his front door.

"Ah man!" Nick muttered, "What the hell?"

"Needle's still lodged in the vain," Warrick said, snapping a picture of the vic's left foot. "Guy must've been a major addict if he had to move to his toes. Veins in his arms must be too thin."

"This shits everywhere," Nick said. He held up a balloon of heroin he'd pulled out of a dresser drawer.

They moved throughout the trailer, photographing every piece of evidence and every ounce of heroin they found. When they were through processing, Warrick had used eleven roles of film and Nick had run out of evidence bags.

"We need more-"

"Brown, Stokes!"

Both CSIs met Lieutenant McLaughlin outside.

"Did you find her?" Nick asked.

"They found something," McLaughlin said, cocking his head toward the crowd behind him, "We were waiting for you two to dig it up."

* * *

When Sara and Grissom arrived at the station to meet Brass, they instead met a crowd of reporters. Grissom avoided the front entrance and drove around to the back of the building.

"I wonder what the hell that's all about," Sara said, getting out of the car and following Grissom to a side entrance. She flashed her ID at the guard there and Grissom took her by the elbow, steering her toward the elevator.

"A prominent UNLV professor brought in for questioning," Grissom said, "Raises people's eyebrows, Sara."

"But how'd it get out already?" Sara asked, "He's probably only been her for about twenty minutes."

"Nosy neighbors make the best eye witnesses."

"People can't ever keep anything to themselves can they?"

"It's not in our nature, besides, those are the people who assist us in our investigations," Grissom said, "They're very reliant."

"How do you figure that?"

Grissom's hand found the small of her back and directed her out of the elevator and to the left. The contact sent chills up Sara's spine.

"They know all and see all," Grissom said, "Most of the time, a neighbor will tell you more about the comings and goings of a suspect than the suspect will."

"But wouldn't that be considered hear-say?" Sara asked.

"I'm not saying that their testimony would hold up in court, Sara. I'm simply saying that the information we get from nosy neighbors usually leads us in the right direction with the case."

Sara contemplated all of this as Grissom pushed her into the interrogation room. She took a seat beside Grissom and across from Professor Talbott.

"Took you two long enough," Brass said from the corner.

"Sorry, Jim, there's a mob of reporters waiting for the professor," Grissom said, glancing at the professor for the first time.

"Professor Talbott, my name is Sara Sidle and this is Gil Grissom, we're from the crime lab and we'd like to ask you a few questions about Allison Conners," Sara began.

"We talked to Joey, a young man who worked at the bar with Allison," Grissom said, "He remembered you having an argument with her the night she disappeared."

"Yeah, Allison and I fought all the time," Professor Talbott told him, "She was one of my best students and I hated seeing her degrade herself at the bar. I was there that night, I tried to convince her to quit."

"You and Allison weren't having an affair?" Sara asked.

"I. . . I don't have to answer that."

"Actually, Professor, if you don't want us to arrest you right now, you will," Brass told him.

Professor Talbott's head dropped, "Please, don't tell my wife."

Sara and Grissom glanced at each other.

"I need to hear the whole story," Sara said.

"I don't really know where to start. When Allison moved to Las Vegas from Seattle three years ago, she was very young and beautiful and ambitious. I was attracted to her from the beginning. She wasn't like any of the other young women I'd ever met. She was demanding and determined to get where she wanted in life. She was a double major, Spanish and International Business."

Grissom glanced at Sara but she wasn't looking at him. She was scribbling notes in her file.

"I guess that neither of us really approached the other in a sexual manner, it really started out innocently. She needed a mentor and she looked up to me. I coached her along for a year or so, helping her get through some tough times with her parents and her classes. It, our affair, just sort of happened. But it wasn't just sex with Allison, I really cared about her, I may have even loved her. . ."

"Professor Talbott," Sara said softly, "Did Allison have a boyfriend?"

"Yes, he's the only reason she worked at the dump."

Sara took the photo Grissom had shown her in the car and placed it in front of the professor.

"That's him," Talbott said snidely, "Frederick Evens. Double-major also, Spanish and Education. He really treated her like shit. I mean, the guy even hit her a few times. She called me at three in the morning once and asked me to drive her to the hospital because she and Rick got into another fight. I get there and the doctor tells me she's got two broken ribs and a sprained wrist."

He shook his head and looked up at Sara and Grissom again.

"She told the doctors she'd been mugged."

"Do you know where we can find Mr. Evens?" Grissom asked.

"He lives off campus somewhere. Allison and I tried not to talk about him too much, she knew he pissed me off."

Grissom, Sara and Brass stepped into the hallway.

"Jim, can you get an address on Evens for me?" Grissom asked, "Sara and I need to go visit our victim."

Sara smiled at Brass as Grissom turned toward the elevator again.

"You two have fun."

* * *

Grissom entered the morgue first and Sara was right behind him. For some reason, Doc Robbins wasn't surprised to see them.

"I've been waiting for you for over an hour," he said to Grissom.

"Excuse me?" Grissom asked.

"Didn't you get my page? I found something interesting on your vic," he told them.

Sara and Grissom both moved to the side of the table.

"She was obviously abused," he said, "Bruising on the rib cage visible fractures to all of her ribs, even a cracked vertebra. But I thought you'd be happy to know that our vic had sexual intercourse less than an hour before her death. I sent trace to Greg."

"Any sign of rape?" Sara asked.

Grissom glanced at her, knowing how she'd take the news if it was positive. He squeezed her hand under the table.

"No, it looks to be consensual," the doctor told them, "The bruising below the waist is inconsistent with sexual assault."

Sara squeezed Grissom's hand in return and dropped it.

"Thanks, Doc."

The two of them turned to go.

"Hey Gil, maybe you should get your pager fixed."


	7. Chapter Six

**Chapter Six**

Shovels in hand, Nick and Warrick began to uncover what they presumed was the body of Erin James. A tarp was spread out just to the left of the dig set, weighed down by four buckets. Each shovel full of dirt went onto the tarp and anything out of the ordinary went into a bucket.

"How deep do you think David James could've dug by himself?" Nick asked, throwing another shovel full of dirt onto the tarp.

Warrick measured the depth of the whole, "Thirty nine inches. He couldn't have done this alone. If the guy was stoned, he wouldn't have gotten two inches without exhausting himself."

"The mother?" Nick asked.

"She's definitely a part of it," Warrick said, picking up a shovel again, "She bought the new car."

"I think we need to talk to Mrs. James again."

Warrick stopped digging when his shovel connected with something that didn't feel like a rock. He and Nick exchanged their shovels for brushed and knelt in the newly discovered grave. Nick brushed dirt from the face of Erin James.

"I'll call David."

* * *

Sara sat in the break room once again, a magazine and a bottle of apple juice on the table in front of her. Grissom had retreated to his office only after reminding her of their date. Brass was out searching for their new suspect and Greg was analyzing the evidence Doc Robbins had discovered on their victims body.

Catherine entered the break room and Sara couldn't help the smile that played on her lips. She was in a great mood despite being a little tired.

"You look nice," Catherine said, "I take it you're feeling better?"

Sara laughed, remembering that she'd been caught napping here not too long ago.

"Yeah, sorry about that," she said.

"Don't worry about it, Sara. You deserve some rest every now and then," Catherine said, "You work too hard sometimes and you deal with a lot on a daily basis. We all understand that."

Sara sat perfectly still. She didn't understand. _Does she know? Did Grissom tell her? Maybe I'm over analyzing. She could be talking in general._

"I don't really deal with any more than the rest of you," Sara said, "I just haven't been sleeping right lately. I shouldn't have fallen asleep here."

Catherine didn't say anything. She took her yogurt and bottled water and sat down beside Sara.

"Look, I don't want you to get the wrong idea, but I know about you and Gil," Catherine told her. She took the folded photo from her purse and put it on the table in front of Sara. "And don't get angry at him because he didn't tell me. That would've taken a lot of begging on my part and I already have bad knees. I was a dancer, remember?"

Sara looked at Catherine and then down and the photo in front of her. She picked it up, flipping it over and over in her hand before opening it.

"Where'd you find this?" Sara asked, surprised.

Catherine smiled at her, "I saw you throw it away the other day. I thought you might change your mind and want it back."

Sara stared down at the picture in her hands.

Catherine smiled. She'd done well. She stood up and left Sara to her memories. As she left she heard a barely audible sound come from Sara.

"Thank you."

Sara's pager beeped loudly and interrupted her thoughts. She took a final drink of her juice, tossed the bottle in the trash, and grabbed her photo off of the table, shoving it in her pocket as she walked down the hall toward Greg's lab.

* * *

Grissom caught up with her about half way there and she smiled at him.

"Get any work done?" she asked happily.

"Plenty, actually," he replied, "You seem chipper."

Sara laughed, "I have my reasons."

They entered the lab together, both of them smiling and laughing, causing Greg to stare at them in total shock.

"Did I miss the memo?" he asked, confused.

"What?" Sara asked, just as lost.

"You two, you're all happy and laughing, it's enough to make a guy sick. Since when is it office policy for the two of you to get along?" Greg asked sarcastically.

Grissom frowned and shot him a look. Greg stopped rattling.

"Right, well I have good news and bad news," he said, handing Sara a lab printout, "I didn't get a match for the semen Doc found on your vic."

"Is that the good news or the bad news?" Sara asked.

"That's the bad news," Greg said, "Good news is the Prof didn't do it."

Sara and Grissom glanced at each other.

"Don't get ahead of the evidence, Greg," Grissom said, "The DNA results tell us that Professor Talbott didn't have sex with Allison Conners, not that he didn't kill her."

"Ah, but it does, boss," Greg said, "I talked to the good doctor down stairs and we discovered that Allison Conners was a hemophiliac. She may not have been raped, but the intercourse was rough. Cause of death? She bled out."

"Bled out?" Sara asked.

"Right, which means that whoever broke her neck, did it after she was dead."

"So we find the sperm donor and we find our murderer," Sara said.

"Exactly."

Grissom and Sara left the lab and headed for his office. They were at the door when their pagers beeped in unison.

"Brass," Sara told him, "I'm guessing that he found Frederick Evens."

"My thoughts exactly," Grissom said, taking Sara by the arm and leading her toward the elevators.

* * *

When their car arrived and they were hidden safely inside, Sara and Grissom turned to face each other.

"Hi," Sara said quietly, her hands going to his face.

Grissom stepped into her, resting his hands on her waist and kissing her softly, "I don't know if I can make it to breakfast."

Sara smiled, "I know what you mean."

He kissed her quickly and stepped back as they reached their floor.

Grissom glanced at her one more time and stepped out of the elevator. He had to force himself to stay at least a foot away from her to keep from touching her. His hands burned to touch her skin.

* * *

"Frederick Evens," Brass said as they approached him, "Sadly, the kid wised up as soon as I had him in the interrogation room. He's got a lawyer."

"Did he come willingly or did you have to arrest him?" Sara asked.

"Let's just say that Mr. Evens is now in the system."

Grissom let Sara enter the room first and they both sat down across from Evens and his lawyer.

"Mr. Evens, I'm Sara Sidle and this is Gil Grissom, we're from the crime lab. Do you know Allison Conners?"

"Ms. Sidle, you and I both know that Allison and my client were involved," Evens' lawyer snapped, "Get to the point."

Sara glanced at Grissom.

"I'm sorry, miss," he said, "I didn't get your name."

"Bridget Montgomery," she told him, "But this isn't about me, Mr. Grissom."

"Doctor," Sara corrected, "Doctor Grissom."

Grissom looked at her then, slightly confused at the sound of her voice. She was being defensive.

"Look, if you have no evidence or grounds on which to hold my client, then we're leaving," Montgomery told them.

"Actually," Grissom said, "We'd like a sample of your client's DNA."

"Nice try, Dr. Grissom, but until you get a warrant, forget it."

Evens and his lawyer moved toward the door.

"You know, Mr. Evens, if you hadn't tried to cover your ass, Allison's death would have been an accident."

The door closed and Sara sat alone with Grissom.

"What the hell was that?" he asked finally.

"What was what?" Sara countered, confused.

"You're doing it again, Sara," he told her, "You're letting this case get to you."

"Gee, I'm sorry, it tears me apart when young girls die for no apparent reason," she snapped, "I have a heart, Griss, and I don't really get to control it."

She stood up, ready to leave, but Grissom took her by the arm.

"I'm not trying to hurt you, Sara," he said softly, "I just don't want this to hurt you either."

Sara didn't say anything.

"You can't keep doing this to yourself honey," he continued, "It's not healthy, and it doesn't help us either. We can't keep doing _this_-" he gestured to the empty room around them, "The more time we spend alone together, the more suspicious people will be."

Grissom was silent now. He stood beside her, not sure he should move. She was shaking and he couldn't make it stop. Anger, frustration, love, confusion; they were all reflected in her eyes.

"Sara."

"You know I hate it when you say my name like that," Sara said. She turned and left him alone in the interrogation room.

* * *

Grissom collapsed into a chair at the table. He dropped his head to his hands and closed his eyes, feeling the on-set of another migraine.

When Brass knocked on the door, Grissom didn't even look up.

"Handful isn't she?" Brass asked. He leaned against the doorframe, "Wanna tell me what that was all about?"

Head still down, Grissom said, "Make whatever you want out of it. I can pretty much guarantee that what you're thinking right now is correct."

"I know I told you once to get a cheaper hobby, Gil, but I didn't exactly want you to compromise your career for it," Brass said, "Sara's a sweet girl and all but-"

"I love her, Jim."

Brass froze.

"Gil, buddy, come on."

"Jim, I love her. Sara and I have known each other for nearly twelve years. In all that time, with all of the energy we put into trying not to get too close, I fell in love with the most beautiful woman that I have ever met," Grissom shook his head, "A career's a career, Jim. But loving Sara, I- I can't stop."

"That's quite a confession, Gil. Have you told Sara all of that?"

"No."

"Any reason why not?"

"Because telling her would only make it harder for her to decide," Grissom said softly.

"Decide what?"

"Whether she wants to be with me or not. Whether she loves me or not."

"I hate to break it to you, Gil, but I think Sara made that decision a long time ago. She was just waiting for you to catch up."

* * *

By the time Sara's made it to her car, tears were streaming down her face. She stood at the driver's side door as she dished her keys out of her pocket, trying not to cry out in anger. She had to hurry as Nick's Tahoe pilled into the garage. He parked beside her and Nick, Warrick and Catherine emerged.

Sara managed to jerk open the driver's side door just as Catherine looked over at her.

"You okay?"

"Fine," Sara choked, climbing into the car, "Just going to grab some food."

She didn't give them time to question her as she jammed the key into the ignition and pulled out of the parking garage.

"Cath, you really think Sara was all right?" Nick asked, holding the door for her as they entered the break room.

"You're kidding right?" Catherine replied, "She was crying."

"Crying?" Warrick asked, "You got that from 'I'm fine'?"

"Who's crying?" Grissom asked.

The three CSIs turned to find the supervisor in the doorway behind them. Catherine, Nick and Warrick passed a worried look around before Catherine stepped forward to speak.

"Uh, we just ran into Sara in the parking garage," she said, "She said something about getting something to eat."

"But she was crying?" Grissom asked.

Catherine noted the concerned tone in his voice.

"I don't know for sure," Catherine said, "She wouldn't even look at me."

Grissom turned and left without a word and Catherine looked at the boys beside her.

"What's that all about?" Warrick asked.

"It's a long story, Warrick, trust me."

* * *

Grissom sat down at his desk, rolling his cell phone between his hands. He'd tried to call Sara on her cell and at home but she wasn't answering either. He sat at the desk and tried to contemplate where else she might go.

"Gil?"

Grissom looked up to see Brass standing at his door.

"Just got a call, one of my guys spotted Sara's car in front of a townhouse on 17th street. They say she's been there for a while."

Grissom sighed in relief, "My house."

He stood up and brushed past a slightly shocked Brass only to run into Catherine in the hallway.

"Stay here and keep an eye on things," he told her.

"Where are you going?"

"To find Sara."


	8. Chapter Seven

**Chapter Seven**

Grissom pulled his Tahoe up behind Sara's and put it into park. She was sitting on the steps of his townhouse with her head in her hands.

"Yeah, honey," he said to himself, "I know how you feel."

He got out of the car and walked over to her. _God, she's beautiful, _he thought. Sara didn't look up as he sat beside her. He picked up her left hand and wrapped his fingers with hers, long and slender. He rubbed his thumb along her wrist, pressing gently on her heartbeat as it pulsed there.

"Do you want to go inside?" he asked, his voice barely audible in her ear.

Sara surprisingly stood up, taking Grissom's hand with her and tugged him to his feet. She didn't say anything. She simply gestured toward the door and smiled when he fumbled with his key.

"Are you nervous?" she whispered.

Grissom didn't look up at her. He unlocked the door and pushed it open for her. Sara stepped in first, taking in her surroundings. Even shrouded in darkness, his apartment felt familiar. She slipped off her shoes while Grissom stood in the doorway, his eyes on her back. She dropped her jacket on the floor. The door closed.

* * *

Grissom woke up to the shrill ring of his cell phone. He rolled over and grabbed it off of the nightstand before it woke the sleeping woman beside him.

"Grissom."

"Gil, it's Jim, we've got your warrant," Brass told him.

Grissom pulled himself up in his bed and rubbed his eyes.

"Gil, you there?" Brass asked.

"Yeah, sorry. Um, I'll call Sara, we'll be right there."

Grissom disconnected the call. He dropped the phone in his lap and rubbed his eyes again, this time checking the clock. It was nearly eleven a.m. Shift was over and he and Sara hadn't been around for most of it. He glanced over his shoulder at her. Hair fanned out over his pillow, she was sound asleep. She was perfect that way and something in the pit of his stomach tightened. He could get used to waking up beside her every evening. Having breakfast, driving to work, it wasn't an unreal idea.

Work was calling now and he hated to wake her. They'd really only been asleep for a couple of hours and he knew that she'd be exhausted. He was exhausted and his muscles were sore, muscles he'd nearly forgotten about. She would be too, he knew, and he reached out to rub her back, wanting to comfort her already.

Sara moaned a little in her sleep and Grissom smiled to himself.

"Sara, honey, you need to get up," he whispered, leaning in close to her face.

She was smiling and he wondered if she was dreaming about him, or them.

"Sara."

"Hmm, you know I hate it when you say my name like that," she mumbled into her pillow, "What time is it?"

"Eleven, and we've got to head back to the lab."

Sara sat upright then and looked past him at the clock.

"Oh god," she muttered.

"Don't worry about the time, Sara, just get up and get dressed and we'll head in, if need be, we'll think of an excuse for where we've been."

Sara didn't seem convinced. She looked at him curiously, trying to figure out who was sitting in front of her and where the real Grissom had gone. Cool, collected and serious equaled the real Grissom. This Grissom was telling her he'd think of a plan later when the need arose instead of thinking of one now and being prepared. Sara shook her head absently.

"What?" Grissom asked, still smiling for her.

"Nothing, I was just wondering if the real Grissom ran out on me last night because I don't think I know you," Sara told him seriously.

He knew she was kidding and he knew what she meant. He felt like a different person. He had expected that, how could a night with Sara not change him?

"Let's go, Sara," he snapped, playfully grabbing her by the arms and hauling her up, "We're going to be late."

"I think the opportunity to be late has past," Sara said, "Shift ended a few hours ago."

Grissom laughed a little, "Of course, but we still have Brass."

"I don't know," Sara said, "I like making him wait."

* * *

Dressing had immediately become a problem because every time Sara looked over and caught a glimpse of Grissom, her imagination went in circles. Eventually, she'd had to force herself to head into the bathroom. When they'd finished dressing in their respective areas, they joined together in the living room.

"Do you want something to eat before we go?" Grissom asked, buttoning the last couple of buttons of his polo shirt.

"No, I think I'll be all right," Sara said, "Besides, I know I said I liked making Brass wait, but I think we're pushing our luck."

They made it out the door and Sara waited on the bottom step as Grissom locked up. He turned to face her and she smiled. Only in her wildest dreams had she ever thought she'd wake up in Grissom's arms. He had so adamantly turned her down once and now that seemed like forever ago. They'd spent the night together. Not really of course because it had been early morning by the time they'd actually made it to his house. But he'd made love to her. He'd held her and touched her and loved her and everything was different now.

Unconsciously, Sara reached out for his hand.

Together, they turned toward their vehicles parked on the street.

"Hey, you got your car back!"

"Ecklie handed me the keys this morning. They didn't find anything, of course, and Carvello wasn't very happy about that," Grissom told her, "Your kit's in the back but it'll have to be restocked."

"That's all right," Sara said, "I'm just glad this shit is over."

To that Grissom didn't reply. There was no doubt in his mind that Ecklie and Carvello would hold this over their heads for a long time. But he didn't tell Sara that, he didn't need to upset her.

"Why don't you swing by your place and change," Grissom suggested, "I'll head to the lab, pick up our warrant and pick you up on my way out."

"You remember where I live?" Sara asked playfully.

"It's only been a few hours, Sara. I know how to get there," he told her. _And_ _I've only driven by a hundred times wondering if I should stop, _he thought.

"All right. I'll go home and shower and change."

Sara leaned over and kissed him softly on the cheek.

"I'll see you soon."

Grissom watched her get in her truck first and she waved as she pulled away from the curb. He smiled at her and climbed into his own truck, heading in the opposite direction.

* * *

Nick and Warrick arrived in the morgue less than five minutes after David had paged them.

"Why, you guys have got quick response time," David told them when the entered, "Maybe you should give Grissom and Sara a lesson in professional courtesy."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Nick asked.

"Well, earlier, when Doc Robbins paged Gil, they didn't show for nearly an hour," David explained.

At his statement, Nick glanced over at Warrick who only shrugged.

"Anyway, I pulled some spinal fluid from the remains you two dug up and sent them to trace. A match to the blood you found in the trash can and the dentals match a one 'James, Erin'," David said. "Definitely your girl. The neck's broken. Cause of death."

"Could a fall have caused the fracture?" Warrick asked.

"Definitely."

"Great, David, thanks," Nick said as they turned to go. They reached the doors and he called over his shoulder, "I'll talk to Gris about that courtesy thing for you."

* * *

Grissom dropped Allison Conners' file on his desk and switched on the lamp there. He sat in his chair and closed his eyes, yawning heavily. He was exhausted from his round with Sara and, if he knew her the way he thought he did, he wouldn't sleep at all before his next shift.

"You look half asleep," Catherine announced as she placed herself in a chair across from his desk.

He yawned again, "Thank you for pointing that out, Catherine."

"Sorry, Gil, but I'm an investigator, I'm supposed to notice these things," she said smiling, "How's Sara? Did you leave her at home in bed?"

Grissom shot her a warning look, "Watch what you say, Catherine. No one else in the lab knows about this and I'd like to keep it that way."

"Relax, Gil I won't say anything else," Catherine told him, laughing. "I just had to ask seeing that she isn't here with you right now."

Grissom rolled his eyes, "If you must know, she went home to change her clothes and restock her field kit. We're searching a suspect's house in an hour. Brass just supplied our warrant."

Catherine smiled, "Was that the first time?"

"Catherine," Grissom snapped, "Out."

She laughed again, getting up from her chair.

"Okay, okay," she moved toward the door, "But I never want to catch the two of in the office!"

"Out!"

* * *

Grissom pulled up in front of Sara's apartment building and parked his car. He didn't get out. He had enough sense to know that, it he went in after Sara, he wouldn't be able to restrain himself. He looked up to the window he knew belonged to her bedroom and noticed that it was open and the curtains were blowing. He picked up his cell phone and dialed Sara's home number.

"Hello?"

"Hey," he said, "I'm outside."

"Well come on up," she said, "I'm almost ready."

"I don't think that's a good idea, honey," he told her, "I'll just wait for you out here."

Sara laughed, "What happened to the stubborn, self-controlled man I fell in love with?"

"He died this morning in his bedroom."

Sara laughed again and he could almost hear her smile.

"Just hurry, all right? I told Brass we'd meet him there in half an hour."

"I'll be down in a minute," Sara told him.

They hung up and Grissom couldn't help watching Sara's window, hoping to get a glimpse of her there. He saw her shadow pass by the blowing curtains just before she shut the window. She hadn't noticed his car in the lot so she hadn't seen him smile.

It took ten minutes after his call for Sara to actually get into the car with him. She put her kit on the backseat, leaning into him for a quick kiss before putting on her seatbelt.

"Where does this kid live?"

"Take a guess."

Sara cocked her head at him and smiled, "Bellview?"

* * *

Nick and Warrick pulled up in front of Camille James' home.

"Think she'll come quietly?" Nick asked.

Warrick shrugged as he knocked on the woman's door.

"Oh," Mrs. James said as she opened the door for them, "Is there something I can help you with Mr. Brown?"

"Mrs. James, we have a warrant to search your home as well as your car," Nick said, handing the paper to the woman, "And, if you could step outside, Lieutenant McLaughlin would like a word with you."

"What's this about?" Mrs. James asked.

"Lieutenant McLaughlin will tell you all about it," Warrick said, watching the woman as she was escorted from the house.

"I'll take the upstairs."

Warrick nodded and entered the living room that had been their original crime scene.

"Do you know where I can find Frederick Evans?" Sara asked.

* * *

A young man, half asleep and half dressed stood in the doorway to apartment 3B of the Bellview Townhouses. He cocked a smile at Sara and looked her up and down.

"Depends. Who's asking?"

Sara smiled, holding up her id. for him, "Sara Sidle, Las Vegas Crime Lab."

The smile disappeared. The boy pulled the door open a little farther and let Sara in. She took a look around the apartment. It was small, and extremely clean for a college student. Books were stacked neatly on the table to her right next to a telephone. There wasn't much clutter in the living room and she noticed that even the entertainment center was well organized.

"I'm Mark Henderson, Rick's my roommate," the boy said quickly, "He's not here right now. Actually, I haven't seen him for a few days."

"Mr. Henderson, what kind of car does Mark drive?" Sara asked, looking out a window that overlooked the parking lot. She smiled at Grissom as he leaned against him truck, cellphone to his ear.

"A, uh, an 01' Mustang," Mark told her, "A graduation present from his parents."

"High school?"

"Yeah."

"Huh, wealthy parents," Sara said, picking up a framed photo off of the end table. "Is that Rick's girlfriend?"

She showed Mark the picture of Rick and Allison Conners.

"Alli? No, Alli's my girlfriend," Mark said, taking the picture from Sara. "I thought she was why you were here. Look, Alli and I sort of, well, we broke up right before she was killed. I hadn't been with her for two weeks or so when she died. And I was visiting my parents in Oklahoma that week. Call them, they'll tell you I was there."

Sara took in everything Mark had told her. _Damn, _she thought, _This girl was two-timing a lot of people._

"Mark, I'm sorry about Allison and I believe that you were in Oklahoma, but I need you to give me a sample of your DNA," Sara told him, "It will help me clear you."

Mark shrugged, "Whatever you need."

Sara pulled a swab from the pocket of her vest, "Just open your mouth for a sec."

He did and she collected what she needed.

"Thanks, now, what color is Rick's car?"

"Green," Mark told her, going to the window, "It's that one right there."

Sara pulled out her cell phone and called Grissom.

"Green mustang to your right."

* * *

Ten minutes later, Sara stood beside Grissom in the parking lot. A flashlight in her right hand, she leaned over the passenger seat of the car.

"Is it just me, or does this car smell like it's just been cleaned?"

Grissom glanced up at her as she pulled a bottle of luminal from her kit. Sara sprayed the luminal on the back of the passenger seat and attached a UV shield to the end of her flashlight.

"No blood," she told him, "But there is vaginal fluid."

Grissom was still staring at her when she looked back up.

"No semen?" he asked.

"Not that I can tell," she said, "Guy could've been wearing a condom."

Sara moved on to the driver's side of the car while Grissom remained looming over the passenger seat. They worked silently beside each other for a few minutes and the tension between them was making Sara crazy. She nearly missed their most important piece of evidence.

"I've got a condom wrapper," she announced, holding it up with her tweezers.

"I've got a hair with the folicle still in tact."

"Let's hope this kid gave us something good to go on," Sara said, bagging the little foil wrapper.

* * *

"Nick!"

Nick bounded up the stairs toward the sound of Warrick's voice.

"Where are you man?"

"First door on your left."

Warrick entered the room behind Nick. He scanned the room quickly and raised his flashlight to Nick's face.

"How the hell did we miss this, man?" he asked.

The two CSIs surveyed the mess around them. The bedroom in which they stood once belonged to Erin James, obvious by the large wooden letters hanging above the queen size bed against the opposite wall. Clothes where strewn about and there was blood on the bedspread. Nick moved to the bed to take a swab and Warrick shook his head.

"What happened here?"

* * *

Sara walked down the hall with Allison Conners' casefile open in her hands. She glanced down at the photo of the interior of Frederick Evan's car, hoping maybe she'd find something that she and Grissom had initially missed. She had photos of the vaginal fluid stain on the passenger seat, and of the condom wrapper that had been stuck between the seat and the floor, but nothing seemed to stand out to her.

When she reached the trace lab, she found Greg with his head down on his desk in the corner. She stood in front of him, closing the file and staring at him intently. The steady rythme of his breath told her that he had actually fallen asleep.

"Greg," she said, shaking him softly, "Hey, Greg."

He started and nearly fell off of his chair when it rolled away from the desk. He glanced up at Sara and smiled for a second, a sleep induced grin.

"I've had dreams about this," he mumbled, running a hand through his hair.

Sara shook her head, scowling at him, "You know, Greg, I really could report you to Grissom for this. Sleeping on the job. Sexually harassing me."

At that, Greg did fall out of his chair, scrambling to get back onto his feet.

"Hey, I wasn't sleeping, just restin' my eyes," he said quickly, "Besides, I have test results for you."

"I can run a simple DNA test, Greg," Sara told him, "I just make you do it cause it's more convinient. What've you got?"

Greg smiled sadly, "Glad to see I'm appreciated."

He handed her a printout and Sara read it over quickly, muttering, "Thanks, Greg", as she left the lab.

"Oh, and Greg?" she turned back to him, "If you ever make one of those 'sexual' comments to me again, I will report you to Grissom. Understand?"

"Yes, ma'am."

* * *

Grissom sat at his desk. He didn't notice her standing there and Sara took the opportunity to watch him work. He was bent over a file that lay open on his desk, his glasses propped up on the end of his nose. She smiled. It was nice to seem him like this, calm and unguarded. It took her back to that morning in his bedroom and she knew that she was blushing.

"Hey."

She said it so softly that Grissom barely heard her. He glanced up, seeing her leaning against his doorframe, her posture completely relaxed. He made a mental note of the shy smile on her face and he smiled back.

"Hi."

For a moment, neither of them moved, both of them smiling and feeling slighlty giddy just staring at each other. Grissom gestured to the chair sitting opposite his desk and Sara's smile widened as she moved further into the office.

"Got our results," she told him, showing him Greg's printout as she sat down, "The vaginal fluid on the passenger's seat is a match to Allison Conners. They had sex in his car."

Grissom nodded, handing her a close up photo of the condom wrapper, "That, my dear, is Frederick Evans' finger print."

"All right, so we know they had sex in his car, he told us that much. But if Allison bled out, where's all the blood?"

Sara and Grissom both sat silently for a moment, trying to find an answer to her question. When she didn't come up with one, Sara shook her head.

"This case is making me crazy," she muttered, "I wish it was over."

He nodded, giving her a thoughtful look.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked quietly.

Sara shook her head, "Maybe later, in private. Right now, I just want to finish this case and take a long, well-deserved nap."

Grissom gave her a look as she stood up to leave his office.

"Sara?"

She stopped, turning back to smile at him.

"I'm here if you need to talk," he told her, "Whenever, honey."

She nodded once and turned down the hall.

* * *

Catherine found Sara curled up on the couch in the break room yet again. Only this time she knew why the younger woman was so exhausted. Gil had probably worked her over for hours. She choked on her coffee at the thought.

"That girl's sleeping again?" Warrick asked, stalking toward the coffee pot.

Catherine nodded, hiding her smirk behind her coffee cup.

"Someone really out to buy her a cot to keep in here," Warrick suggested, "It would be more comfortable than that couch."

"What couch?"

Grissom's voice caught their attention and Catherine jerked her thumb in Sara's direction. He noted her even breathing and realized that she was sound asleep. He shook his head.

"I've really got to make her cut back on her overtime," he said serious, moving to join Warrick at the coffee pot.

"Sure," Catherine muttered, "That really has something to do with it."

She turned around to catch Grissom glaring at her and smirked.

"You gonna wake her up?" Warrick asked.

Grissom looked at Sara again. She was smiling and looked slightly comfortable. She hadn't gotten much sleep that morning before he'd had to wake her and they weren't doing anything at the moment.

"No," he shrugged, "Let her sleep. I'll wake her when we get a lead."

He continued out the door to his office and Warrick just stared at him. His jaw was slightly slack, he turned his attention to Catherine.

"What's that about?" he asked, indicating there boss as he walked away.

Catherine shrugged, "Maybe he's starting to see Sara for Sara. Or... maybe he knows why she's so damn exhausted."

Warrick looked at her, cocking an eyebrow in confusion, "Care to elaborate?"

"Can't," Catherine said as her pager went off, "That's Brass with my new case. Find me later, we'll talk."

* * *

Sara woke with a start. Sweat was running down her spine and she could feel her shirt sticking to her back. She looked around quickly, brushing the hair from her face, and realized that she's fallen asleep in the break room again. Thankfully she was alone. She let out a ragged breath and tears formed in her eyes. Her chest hurt.

Stumbling slightly as she tried to stand, Sara grabbed the back of a chair at the table.

"Shit," she mumbled, bracing against the chair for more support. Her knees hurt and she looked back at the tiny leather couch she'd been scrunched up on. "I've really got to stop sleeping here."

"I'll attempt to help you with that."

She jumped at the sound of Grissom's voice in the door behind her and spun around to fast. Suddenly light headed, Sara reached for the chair again but missed it. She stumbled again and would've hit the floor if it hadn't been for Grissom's arms around her waist, holding her up.

"Hey, hey," he said softly, pulling her up against him, "Are you all right?"

Sara nodded, not sure she trusted her voice at the moment.

"Come on, come sit down," he led her over to the couch she had recently vacated. They sat together and Sara didn't say anything. She leaned into Grissom and closed her eyes, not wanting to lose the feel of his body against her's.

"I had a nightmare," she finally whispered, "About Debbie Marlin again."

Sara felt Grissom tense immediately and she regretted telling him. She tried to pull away, hoping he would just let her go and she could go find a dark corner to hide in, but he wouldn't let her up. Instead, he held her closer.

"Sara," he said softly, willing her to stay with him, "Those nightmares will go away, honey, I promise."

Sara shrugged, "I'm kind of used to them _not _going away. I always have nightmares, Griss, it's why I don't like to sleep, because I know that trying to sleep will only make me more tired."

They both sat in silence for a few moments and Sara didn't want the moment to end, even though she knew that it had to eventually. They were at work. In the break room. Sitting too close on the couch. It would look slightly out of place if someone walked in and found them that way. Sara turned and pushed at his chest, laughing lightly.

"If someone sees us here, they're gonna get the wrong idea, Griss," she said.

"Are they?"

Sara knew she was blushing, "Well... no, I guess not, but we don't really want them to know that it's the right idea... do we?"

He took a moment to think about that and then moved away from her a little on the couch, "You're right. I don't think now would be the time to bring up our..."

"Relationship?" Sara offered.

He nodded and they each to a moment to survey the other's reactions. Sara was more relaxed and smiling. Grissom was slightly nervous but smiling all the same.

"So," Sara said, standing and moving toward the coffee pot, "Do we have a lead?"

"I think we may," he told her, "I pulled a hair from the victims clothing, follicle still in tact."

"But she was in the pond."

"It was attached to her sock," Grissom told her, grinning slightly, "Inside her shoe."

Sara's jaw dropped a little but she quickly snapped her mouth shut. Grissom shook his head, moving from the couch and heading down the hall, "Head to Trace. Greg should be able to prep you by now."

* * *

"Hey Greg."

"Hey there Sleeping Beauty," Greg said, grinning at her.

Sara scowled, "My results, Greg."

"Right, um, skin tag on the hair provided enough DNA to make a match and I'll give you three guesses to who it belonged to," Greg said, waving the printout in her face.

"Greg, I just slept curled up on a couch that is a foot to short for me and I'm still pretty damn tired, give me my damn report," Sara snapped.

Greg handed her the report and turned back to his microscope.

"Thanks, Greg," Sara muttered, turning to go find Grissom.

"Oh, Sara?"

She turned back to him.

"You might want to take a look in the mirror," he told her, pointing to his own hair, "You're sticking up everywhere."

Sara's hand immediately went to her hair and she turned away quickly and practically ran to the locker room.


	9. Chapter Eight

**Chapter Eight**

Professor Jason Talbott sat in the interrogation room across from Jim Brass. Grissom was leaning against the two-way mirror, watching the exchange between the police detective. Sara stood on the other side of the mirror, doing what Grissom had asked of her. She was forbidden to be a part of the interrogation because of the hard evidence that they had discovered on Allison Conners' body.

"Professor Talbott," Brass began, "Did you see Allison Conners' the night she was murdered?"

Talbott looked at his lawyer who nodded for him to answer Brass' question.

"Allison and I had an argument at the bar," Talbott explained, "I was trying to talk her out of going away with Rick. The kid had talked her into moving to Los Angeles and I was trying to tell her that she was too good for him."

Grissom took that moment to intervene, sitting down at the table beside Brass.

"Professor Talbott, we found significant evidence that you were with Allison after she left the bar that night. Can you explain that?"

Talbott leaned over as his lawyer whispered something in his ear.

"I waited for Allison after her shift," Talbott began again, "She didn't want to talk to me during her shift, but I had to keep her away from Rick Evans. That scumbag wasn't good for her. I just wanted a better life for her."

Sara shifted her weight slightly. She was becoming restless. Something was wrong, something about Talbott's posture, his attitude. The way he spoke about Allison with such emotion, it made Sara uncomfortable. She continued to observe the interrogation going on in front of her.

"What was Allison wearing when you talked in the bar?" Grissom asked.

"I don't really remember," Talbott said, becoming somewhat nervous, "I think her top was pink."

* * *

Sara glanced at the pictures of Allison's body when they'd pulled it out of the pond on the UNLV campus. She was wearing running pants, a pink T-shirt, and tennis shoes. Grissom had found Talbott's hair inside of Allison's shoe.

Without really thinking about it, Sara flipped open her cell phone and called the bar in Gainsville where their victim had work. The manager answered the phone.

"Mr. Jackson?" she said, "My name is Sara Sidle, I'm from the crime lab. Do you have security cameras in the bar?"

"Actually, we do," the manager told him, "Is there something I can help you with?"

"I need the footage from the night that Allison disappeared," Sara told him, "I need to know what she was wearing when she died."

"The cameras are in black and white, is that all right?"

"Its fine, just need to know what I'm looking for."

When Grissom left the interrogation room, he found Sara waiting for him in the hallway. She looked anxious, pacing the short width of the hallway.

"What've you got?" he asked, sensing her need to talk to him.

"Manager at the bar in Gainsville says he's got footage from the night Allison was murdered. I figured we could drive out there and pick up the tapes while Brass gets us a warrant to search Talbott's house and office," Sara explained, still pacing.

Grissom's hand on her shoulder stopped her. Their eyes met and Sara smiled sadly.

"I'm sorry, I just want this case to be over with," she told him.

"I understand that, Sara. And you're plan is do-able. We need to know exactly what Allison was wearing, but you either need to calm down, or go home, Sara, because I can't use you like this, you're wound too tight."

Sara nodded and took a deep breath.

"I'm fine," she told him, "I am. Let's just get moving, okay? The sooner we're done, the sooner I can get home."

"Okay," he said, nodding, "Go wait for me in my office, Sara. I need to talk to Brass and I'll meet you there."

* * *

Nick met Warrick outside of trace, holding a printout out to him.

"Blood on Erin James' bed isn't a match to Erin," Nick told him, "But it does have the eight matching markers."

"David?" Warrick asked, checking the printout.

"Hell yeah," Nick said, "Something happened in that room, man, something messed up."

"And we need to figure it out."

* * *

Grissom and Sara arrived at the bar in Gainsville in good time. Sara had fallen asleep and Gil hadn't tried to wake her. She'd slept a lot more than normal the last few days and he wasn't sure if she was coming down with something or if she simply felt comfortable enough to sleep. Which ever it was, he was glad for it, she needed to rest.

"Sara."

She jerked a little when he touched her, and sat up fully, wide awake. She looked around the interior of the car and her eyes focused on him for a second.

"Wow," she cleared her throat, "Something must be wrong, I haven't slept this much in years."

Sara stretched her arms as much as she could in the small space of the SUV and smiled at Grissom.

"Sorry I couldn't have been better company," she struggled to stifle a yawn as they both made there way out of the car.

"Sara, I really do think maybe you should take a few days off when we're through with this case," Grissom told her, "You need to catch up on your sleep... and not on company time."

Sara grinned, shaking her head, "I know, I'm sorry. I don't know what's wrong with me. I've never been this tired in my life, Griss."

They entered the bar together and their conversation was delayed further. Sara approached the waitress behind the bar, flashing her badge.

"I need to speak with Mr. Jackson, please. My name is Sara Sidle, he's expecting me."

The waitress moved away from them and a few moments later, the manager returned with two video tapes. He gave them both to Sara.

"Have you found the man that did this to Allison?" he asked.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Jackson, but we can't discuss an open case," Sara explained, "But when we get some answers, we'll let you know."

As they headed toward the exit, Grissom realized a flaw in Sara's logic. He stopped, turning back to the manager.

"Mr. Jackson? Do you have video surveillance in the parking lot?" he asked.

The manager nodded, "Course I do, I've gotta protect my girls."

Sara and Grissom stared at each other. They had an answer all along and neither of them had thought of it. Grissom went back to the bar to retrieve the video from the manager before moving back to join Sara on the walk out.

* * *

Camille James answered her front door to be greeted my CSIs Stokes and Brown. Two men she had seen more time than she cared to count lately.

"We're sorry to bother you again, Mrs. James, but Detective Brass has a few questions for you."

Brass stepped up to the front door and said, "Ma'am," as she let them in.

The three men followed Mrs. James into her living room. She sat on the couch and Brass took a seat on the coffee table opposite her, opening a notebook to take her statement.

"Mrs. James, we have reason to believe that your son and daughter were involved in a struggle that resulted in her death," Warrick explained, "We found Erin's remains buried on David's property. Mrs. James, your daughter is dead."

Tears welled up in Camille James' eyes but she didn't seem shocked at all by the news of her child's death. She shook her head, wiping tears from her eyes.

"David came over here, the night that Erin died, he was high," Mrs. James explained, "He wanted me to call her, ask her to come home. I knew he wanted money from her because I didn't have anymore to give him. So I called her. I lied to my little girl, I told her there was a family emergency and I needed her here."

Mrs. James cried harder now and the three men exchanged glances.

"Mrs. James, what happened after Erin arrived?" Brass asked.

Mrs. James shook her head again, "When Erin figured out that I lied to her, she was hysterical. She started screaming at David, telling him that he was worthless and a waste of time. She was furious and they started screaming. Erin grabbed her car keys and headed for the door but David caught her before she could leave. He grabbed her arm and pulled her into the living room. They struggled a little and before I really knew what was happening, Erin was... she was outside, lying on the ground under the window."

Nick and Warrick looked at each other then, neither of them sure what exactly to say. Warrick cleared his throat before he spoke.

"How did Erin's body end up on David's property, Mrs. James?"

"We...um, David and I, we moved her," Mrs. James began again, "David went around back and found a trash can. He- he made me help him stuff Erin's body... oh, god, what have I done? My poor little girl!"

* * *

Sara and Grissom sat in the A/V lab going through hours of security video from the bar where Allison had worked. So far they hadn't found anything in the parking lot video simply because Allison's car had been parked under the street lamp that the camera had been mounted on.

"What's she wearing?" Grissom asked, glancing over her shoulder at the monitor she was staring at.

"Black skirt, from what I can tell, maybe dark blue, and a light colored shirt. Talbott said it was pink and that's definitely possible," Sara told him, pointing at the black and white image of Allison Conners on the screen, "She has on fishnet stockings and high black boots. Griss, we need to find those clothes."

He nodded and turned back to his own monitor. He pointed at the image frozen on the screen, "Green Ford Mustang. I ran the plates, they're registered to Frederick Evans. He picked her up that night, this-" he unpaused the video "-is Allison getting into the car with him. She knew he was going to be there."

"Okay," Sara said, rubbing her eyes, "We know that Allison and Rick had sex in his car and we know that he picked her up from work. We also know that Talbott waited for her that night. So do we have the footage from the parking lot when Evans dropped her off at her own car later?"

Grissom fast forwarded the video and paused it again.

"Here," he told her, "Just after two."

They both sat silently staring at the monitor. Something seemed too easy about this case, it unsettled them both.

Grissom's cell phone rang, causing them both to jump a little. He reached for it, unclipping it from his belt.

"Grissom."

The conversation was brief and Sara only heard Gil's end of it. When he disconnected the call, he turned to her, standing.

"We've got a warrant. Brass is waiting for us downstairs."

Sara nodded briefly and joined him, standing.

"Let's go."

* * *

"Stokes."

Warrick stood beside Nick as he spoke into his cell phone. They were outside of Camille James' house, watching as Brass cuffed the woman and put her in the back of his car.

Nick disconnected his call and turned to Warrick.

"They found David James' car," Nick said, "There towing it to the garage as we speak."

"Good, let's head over there," Warrick said, starting to move toward their car.

Nick turned and followed Warrick to the car and they made their way back to the lab.

* * *

Sara moved into the master bedroom of Jason Talbott's home. They had cleared the downstairs, neither of them finding any evidence of Allison Conners in the house. Sara was feeling slightly frustrated. She just wanted to find something to nail someone with Allison's murder. A young college student was dead and they'd been working her case for days with no one to blame for her death. This case was getting to her.

Moving the ALS over the sheets on the bed, she found semen and vaginal fluid. She took a sample of each and moved on to the laundry basket on the other side of the armoire. She began pulling clothing from the basket, focusing the ALS on every pair of men's pants that she pulled from the basket.

"Grissom!"

Grissom appeared in the doorway behind her.

"What'd you find?" he asked, moving to stand beside her.

"Blood," she said, holding up a pair of jeans, "And vaginal fluid."

"All right," he said, "Bag those and keep processing. If we find Allison's clothes, we've got this guy, Sara."

She nodded, taking a large evidence bag from her kit and bagging the pants. Grissom moved and left her alone to finish the room.

Sara put the bag next to her kit and opened the armoire, going through the clothes hanging there and checking the drawers. Coming up with nothing, she moved away from the room and went into the connecting bathroom.

The bathroom again produced no clothing and Sara exited in search of Grissom.

Grissom was in the bedroom of Talbott's thirteen year old daughter. It was a disaster and he was having a hard time even moving around the room as the floor was littered with clothing.

"Wow," Sara said from the doorway, "If I ever let my room get this dirty, my parents would've killed me."

Grissom shrugged, "I never owned enough clothes to let my room get this dirty. Besides, I wouldn't have been able to do my experiments in this mess."

Sara laughed a little and moved further into the room. Kneeling down, she began sorting through the clothing on the floor.

"Are you thinking that maybe Allison's clothes are buried in her somewhere, Griss?" Sara asked, picking up a pink tank-top and tossing it to the side.

"It would be a convenient way to hide something in plain sight," he replied.

Sara grumbled, "_Plain sight_, my ass."

At that, Grissom laughed and they continued their search in a comfortable silence, each of them moving in opposite directions around the room. Sara eventually dug under the girl's bed, producing three different diaries and a box of "love letters".

"This girl keeps everything," Sara mused, flipping through the pages of one of the journals, "This one is a couple years old."

Grissom was standing in the closet and when he didn't respond to her spoken thoughts, she looked up at him. He had stopped his search and was simply standing there, staring into the closet.

"Griss?"

He turned to her. In his left hand he was holding a black leather skirt that looked way too big for a thirteen year old and in his right hand he was holding a pair of red silk underwear.

Sara looked up at him, "I'm going to take a guess and say that those don't belong to Talbott's daughter."

"There's semen visible on the inside of the skirt and on the underwear."

They looked at each other and Sara knew that it was almost over. All they needed now was a DNA match and Jason Talbott would be in jail for murder. Sara knew what had to be done. She took another large evidence bag from her kit and opened it for him, taking the articles of clothing and labeling them.

"Are you all right?" Grissom asked quietly, noticing that she'd gone slightly pale.

"Fine, just..."

His hand was on her face before he could really think about his action and Sara smiled. She moved into his touch, wanting nothing more than to go home with him and curl up on the couch or in bed. They reluctantly pulled away from each other, both of them with serene looks gracing their features.

"We're at work," Sara mumbled.

"I know," Grissom said, "This is only gonna get worse, honey. I need to know that we're gonna be able to handle moments like this."

Sara took another step closer to him and placed a hand on his chest, "We'll be fine, Gil. I promise."

She kissed him quickly and they separated, each of them going about their needed tasks. Sara exited the room first, taking their evidence out to the car and leaving Grissom to do his final walk through of the house.

* * *

When they arrived at the lab, Sara took their evidence to Trace and dropped them off with Greg while Grissom headed straight to his office to call Brass.

"Jim, its Gil. Sara and I found Allison Conners' clothes in the professor's house," Grissom spoke into his phone, "Sara's processing what we have now and I want to talk to Talbott again when she's finished."

"Will do," Brass told him, "We'll be waiting."

Sara popped her head into his office just as he closed the phone.

"Greg got it," she said, "Vaginal fluid we found on the pants belonged to Allison as well as the blood and the rest of the clothing we found. We got him, Griss, Talbott was with Allison right before he died. He probably disposed of the body."

"All right. Let's go see him."

Grissom stood and approached Sara, turning off his office lights and walking beside her down the hall.

"Professor Talbott," Sara began, "We found these pants in the hamper at your house this afternoon. The stains I've circled in the photo are spots of vaginal fluid mixed with blood. Both of which are a positive match to Allison Conners."

"I think that you should tell us what happened to Allison."

Talbott leaned over to listen to his lawyer's advice then glanced at Sara and Grissom.

"I watched Allison get into the car with Rick that night after her shift," he began, "She was still wearing her work clothes. She looked like a slut. They parked at the other end of the lot and had sex in his car. I stood there, watching them, I didn't know what else to do. I think I may have throw up at some point. Anyway, um, Allison got out of Rick's car and he didn't even stay to make sure that she got into her car okay. I stood by and watched her get in the car, but I couldn't just let her leave."

Talbott stopped talking and Sara and Grissom glanced at each other. The room was momentarily silent before Talbott finally spoke again.

"I tried to talk to her, but she screamed at me, told me that I had no right to be there," he said, beginning to sound remorseful, "I couldn't let her go. I was in love with her and that asshole was using her, he was gonna dump her the minute they got to LA. And I tried to tell her but... but Allie just wouldn't listen!"

Sara jumped a little, startled by the change of tone in Talbott's voice. She noted the way his lawyer placed a hand on his forearm to calm him and he took a deep breath. She shifted a little in her seat before she felt Grissom's hand on her thigh. She looked over at him and gave him a week smile, silently letting him know that it was all right, she was fine.

"I pulled her out of her car... I just wanted to talk to her. She got into my car and she finally stopped screaming at me. Now, she was crying, I didn't want her to cry. I made it to the campus before..."

"Before you killed her?" Sara asked calmly. "You raped her. When she wouldn't talk to you, you forced her to have sex with you. But you didn't know that Allison was a hemophiliac. She started bleeding and you couldn't make it stop. Eventually, between the blood loss and the fact that she was struggling against you, Allison passed out. You didn't know what else to do, so you strangled her. You wrapped your hands around her throat and choked the life out of her."

"I-I didn't mean..." Talbott was sobbing now and Sara was feeling somewhat nauseated.

"Why did you redress her?" Grissom asked quietly.

"I- She was covered in blood and I didn't want anyone to see her like that," Talbott said, his breathing slowing quickly. "I took her body back to her car, I knew she had her workout clothes in the trunk. I put the pants on her and tried to clean her up a little. I-I-I'm so sorry!"

The grin on Sara's face was forced as she tried to cover her urge to vomit. She glanced at Grissom and said, "I think we're done here."

She stood abruptly and left the interrogation. As she left, she vaguely heard Brass being, "Professor Jason Talbott, you're under arrest for the murder of Allison Conners. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say or ..."

Sara found the nearest trashcan and emptied the contents of her stomach. She wiped absently at her mouth as she felt Grissom's hand gently rubbing her back.

"Are you all right?" he asked quietly.

She nodded, desperately scanning for the nearest water fountain. Sensing what she needed, Grissom pointed to the hall to their left and Sara moved away from him quickly. He didn't follow her. He sat on the bench near the interrogation room and waited for her to return.

"I'm sorry," Sara said, sitting down next to him a few minutes later. She stared down at her hands as he reached over and held one of them.

"Sara, in all of the years I've known you, that is the first time I've seen you become physically ill over a case," he said gently, "Even after that decomp you and Nick worked."

Sara laughed, "Yeah, liquid man. But just because you didn't witness it, doesn't mean that it didn't happen. We were in the layout room going over evidence on his jacket... I made Nick swear that he wouldn't tell anyone."

Grissom looked at her and laughed a little.

"Come on," he told her, pulling on her hand as he stood from the bench, "I want to have a debriefing with the team before we head out."

Sara caught his use of the word 'we' and smiled, following his ascent.

* * *

A/N: This story is coming to an end and I just wanted to thank everyone who took the time to read and review. I really appreciate it! 


	10. Chapter Nine

**Chapter Nine**

Nick Stokes, Warrick Brown and Catherine Willows exchanged glances as they watched Grissom and Sara walk into the break room, hands pulling apart abruptly when they noticed the others in the room. They passed quick, silent thoughts to one another and Sara moved to take a seat at the table beside Nick.

"You all right, kid?" Nick whispered as she sat down.

"Yeah," Sara said, nodding her head absently, "I'm fine."

"You just look a little pale, that's all."

Sara shrugged and focused on Grissom as he began to speak to all of them.

"All right, give me an update on your cases."

Warrick and Nick looked at each other and Nick spoke first, "Turns out the B and E we were investigating was actually a homicide. Erin James went home because ser mother called and told her there was some sort of family emergency. When she got here, she found out that her older brother David was high and wanted money from her. Turns out there was no emergency, David the scumbag just wanted to bum cash off her and when she refused, they had an argument and he ends up throwing her out a window. She broke her neck and mother and son put her body in a trashcan and took her out to David's property in the desert and buried her body. David ended up killing himself, overdose."

"So what did we get?" Grissom asked, somewhat confused.

"We arrested the mother as an accessory to the murder," Warrick told him, "The full report's waiting on your desk."

"Good job," Grissom said, "Is anyone up for breakfast?"

At this they all looked around with questioning glances. It took a moment for all the eyes in the room to fall on Sara and she shrugged, "Hey, don't look at me, I wasn't prepared for that either."

"Its breakfast, children, we did this a couple of mornings ago, can we act like civilized human beings and have breakfast?"

His team looked at Grissom and he simply shook his head, "It's on me."

At that they all rose and followed him out the door and to the parking lot.

* * *

Breakfast went over well, all of them laughing and talking, even drawing Grissom into their conversations every now and then. He and Sara sat on opposite sides of the table, she with Catherine and he with Warrick. Nick and Greg sat at the end of the table, fighting for elbow room on the table. It seemed so easy. The group of them, sitting together, happy. It wasn't as unrealistic as Gil had once thought it would be. No one was uncomfortable. They weren't leaving him out. Sara was smiling. It was going to be a good day.

"Orders are up, guys," Sophia called from behind the counter. Catherine and Warrick got up to retrieve their orders and Grissom leaned across the table a little, getting Sara's attention.

She leaned over and smiled, "You have a look."

He shrugged, "I wanted to tell you how happy I am."

Sara smiled at him and whispered, "I'm happy too, Gil."

They sat there like that for a few minutes, their faces only a couple of inches apart, both of them grinning unabashedly. Sara wanted desperately to kiss him, but she knew better. They were being intimate, to some degree, in public and that would have to be enough. Pushing him would drop them down the ladder a few rungs and she didn't want to risk that.

Sara leaned back the minute she sensed Catherine and Warrick return to the table. Catherine placed Sara's plate on the table first, then her own plate down in her place. Handing Greg his food, she sat back down next to Sara.

"So, Sara, someone said you got sick outside of the interrogation room today," Catherine said, elbowing her in the ribs.

Sara's face went pink immediately and she shrugged, focusing on her food, "It must have been something I ate."

Catherine looked up to note Grissom's reaction. He seemed calm and unaffected by her admission so Catherine took it at face value, not prodding the younger female CSI anymore.

* * *

They continued talking with ease and after an hour of nothing more than idle chatter, their little party broke up. Nick and Warrick both announced that they were exhausted and felt that they needed to head home. Catherine agreed, claiming that she hadn't seen Lindsey in what felt like days. So, standing outside the diner, she bid them goodnight (good-day, actually) and climbed into her truck, leaving Sara, Gil and Greg outside of the diner.

"Hey, Sara, you wanna come hang out and watch some movies with me?" Greg asked, "I have tons of energy."

Sara glanced at Grissom out of the corner of her eye and turned back to Greg.

"Sorry, Greggo, but I think I'm gonna go home and try to get some sleep," Sara said, patting him on the shoulder, "Night, gentleman."

With that, Sara got in her car and drove off, leaving Grissom and Greg both to stare after her. Greg turned to his supervisor, opened his mouth to voice a thought, then closed it again quickly, thinking it would be best to just stay quiet. Grissom turned to head to his truck, only turning back to Greg to say, "See you at the lab tonight, Greg."

Greg turned back to him, smiling and waving a little as he climbed behind the wheel of his Jetta.

* * *

Grissom pulled up in front of his townhouse fifteen minutes after leaving the diner to find Sara's truck parked across the street. He smiled to himself. As he climbed out of his car, he noticed Sara sitting on his steps waiting patiently. She glanced up at him, a mischievous grin forming as he stepped closer to her.

"Care to tell me what you're doing here, Miss Sidle?"

Sara laughed lightly as Grissom moved around her to unlock the front door, "Well, see, I could've sworn my boy-"

They glanced at each other with raised eyebrows.

"I don't know what to call you," Sara said quietly, lowering her eyes as she felt herself blush, "I mean, boyfriend sounds really childish and lover sounds -"

He leaned in and kissed her quickly, pushing her inside without breaking away from her. The door closed behind them as Sara came up for air and moved to the couch. Gil moved into the kitchen, only returning when he was carrying two wine glasses. Handing one to Sara, he sat down on the couch beside her, smiling happily when she leaned into his shoulder.

"For now, honey, lover will have to do," he told her, sipping his wine, "Maybe later it will be fiancé and after that husband... but for now lover is appropriate."

Sara didn't speak. She sat silently at his side, taking in the intensity of his statement. _Lover, fiancé, husband. _Three words that, only a few years ago, she never would've used to describe her relationship with Gil Grissom were now the words that he was using to describe himself. She took a deep breath, turning slightly to face him, and decided to speak.

"Honestly, Gil, I don't think I'm comfortable with 'lovers' being the title of our relationship," she told him, continuing on before he could interrupt, "I mean, I'm not complaining about the sex, Griss, because it's wonderful and I love you, so much, but I think it would be a little disconcerting if we announced that we're 'lovers' to our friends. Not that I have any plans on making that announcement anytime soon, or at least not without your approval, but still. And I'm sorry, but I've waited long enough, and I'm happy with you and with this, but I can't help wanting more. I'm not getting any younger, Gil, and neither are you."

Now it was Grissom's turn to sit silently and take in all that Sara was saying. She wanted to be more than loves. They had just made it to that stage in their relationship and she wanted more... he wasn't completely sure if he was ready for more. Then again, he had fantasized about marrying Sara for years, practically since the first time they'd met. But now she was here, she was real, sitting beside him in his home, her entire body pressed into him, and they were talking about marriage. He and Sara were discussing marriage, they're marriage.

"Sara, I never thought I would get the chance to do this," he told her, standing up and pulling her along with him. He didn't say anything more as they walked into his bedroom.

Closing the door behind them, he sat Sara down at the foot of his bed and moved to his dresser. When he turned back around to her, he moved to kneel in front of her, seeing the tears well up in her eyes.

"I love you, Sara. I love you more than I can express in my own words but the closest I can come is this, 'I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you straightforwardly without complexities or pride; so I love you because I know no other way that this; Where I does not exist, nor you, so close that your hand on my chest is my hand, so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.' Sara, honey, will you marry me?"

He held the ring box in his right hand, his left one on Sara's knee balancing him. She stared down at the antique diamond and ruby ring in the velvet box. She forced herself to look up at him, tears cascading down her face now.

"You know that you didn't have to do this," she said, he voice barely above a whisper.

Gil stood and moved to sit beside her, drawing her into his arms. Leaning into her ear, he whispered, "I know, Sara. I love you. Honey, will you marry me?"

Unable to say the single word, Sara nodded against his shoulder and pulled back a little as he slipped the ring on her finger.

"Gil, make love to me..."

* * *

A/N: Ok, the quote Grissom uses here is Pablo Neruda, and yes, I've used the same one a dozen other times. Sorry, it's my favorite. Again, thanks to everyone who reviewed and those of you who didn't want Sara to be preggers, congrats, she wasn't. (sorry to anyone her wanted her to be)


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